


The Timing is Beating Our Hearts

by xmypandabear



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Career Change, Edward Elric Swears, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, News Media, Plans For The Future, Post-Canon, Post-Promised Day, Spoilers, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-04-23 07:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14327364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xmypandabear/pseuds/xmypandabear
Summary: '“There’s something you should be aware of,” she said. Her voice was pitched so it wouldn’t carry and it made Ed tense because nothing good ever followed those words and that tone. “If he’s serious, he’ll have to study at the university in Central. It’s the only one which does medicine.” Which Ed hadn’t known, but the way she was looking at him told him she wasn’t done.“Okay…?”Granny sighed. “That means money, Ed. A lot of it.”Oh.“Shit,” he muttered and quickly ran through the numbers in his bank, the leftover from his time as a State Alchemist. It was more than enough to live comfortably in Resembool for several years, was just enough for another leg if necessary, but Central needed a much bigger budget. “Okay, uh – hit me.”'--In which the brothers decide on their futures, and Ed struggles to look beyond Al.AU after Brotherhood.





	1. Chapter 1

“Brother, I’ve been thinking…”

A shadow fell across him, blocking out the warm sun rays, and Ed cracked open his eyes to squint up at his brother.

“Brother?” Al repeated with a tiny crease between his eyebrows. Ed yawned and was a little too late covering his mouth, judging by the way Al’s nose scrunched up.

“What?” he wasn’t quite able to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“O-oh, it’s nothing, never mind, forget I said anything!” Al flailed his hands around in front of him.

Ed rolled his eyes and batted at the hands until they stopped. “Like fuck,” he said. “Tell me.”

“Really, it’s not important -”

“Do I need to sit on you and make you talk again?” Ed moved as if to do so, making Al stumble and fall on his backside. He snorted and continued, “Just ‘cause you’ll be comfier now you’re not so bony -”

“I was never bony!”

“You were a scrawny ass who couldn’t even -”

“This is why people don’t like you brother,” Al pointed a finger at Ed. “All I wanted to do was talk about the future and you’re -”

“The future?” Ed cut in with a grin and Al halted, scowled and huffed as he realised he’d been tricked.

“I don’t even know why I wanted your opinion,” his brother muttered and got up. He started to walk away, and Ed realised the topic had meant something to Al. His grin fell.

“Al, wait!” he called, bolting to his feet and rushing after his brother. He caught his wrist and pulled him around. “I didn’t realise -” he broke off, studied his brother’s tense body, and continued softer, “Tell me.” He couldn’t stop his brain from spinning away though, worrying about all the things that would make Al this serious.

Al’s hand clenched into a fist, then relaxed, as he sighed and looked back at Ed. “I want to learn healing alchemy and become a doctor,” he said.

“… Oh.” That didn’t sound bad at all.

His brother took it for disapproval and explained, “I just – so many people helped us on our journey, out the goodness of their hearts, and I thought it might be nice to pay that forward…” he hunched his shoulders. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Ed argued automatically and then tilted his head. “You mean like Mei?”

“Well, a little,” Al looked up hopefully and must’ve been encouraged by what he saw because he continued, “I do want to learn alkahestry, but healing must be compatible with alchemy – just look at Dr Marcoh! I know he had a stone but that only amplified what he could do, so it had to have been possible before right?”

Ed scratched his head. “I guess.” He hadn’t given it too much thought, but his lack of enthusiasm seemed to make his brother deflate a little.

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

That wasn’t the case at all. Ed could easily imagine Al working in a hospital or running around a battlefield giving orders, but he had to give it careful consideration because it was Al’s future and needed to be perfect.

“I can see it,” he reassured and smiled at the way the tension drained out of his brother. “And I know personally you’ve got a great bedside manner.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re ridiculously patient and you don’t take any crap.”

Al smiled. “I had a lot of practice.”

“On second thought,” Ed began, making his brother snicker and shove his shoulder. Ed’s scowl broke and he shoved back, pleased when Al’s body barely gave under his hand.

“I don’t know where to start though,” Al said not long after, breaking the comfortable silence they’d fallen into. Ed shrugged because he didn’t know either, then caught sight of the house over Al’s shoulder.

“Granny would.”

“Oh! Of course!” Al smacked his own forehead.

“C’mon,” Ed grinned and pulled Al back to the house by his wrist.

They found Granny in the back room tinkering with some tools and it didn’t take long to explain what Al wanted. She peered at Al over her glasses and said,

“You’re sure?”

“Uh huh!”

“It takes a lot of hard work,” she warned. “It’s also a job that’ll follow you the rest of your life.”

“I understand.”

Here, Granny paused and leant forward. The intensity made Ed shift uncomfortably and he wasn’t even the recipient. “And do you understand,” she said, “that sometimes, no matter how hard you’ll try, people are going to die?”

Al stilled, and Ed wondered if he was remembering a little girl too.

“I do,” he finally said, a determined glint in his eyes, and Granny relaxed.

“Then you should speak to Winry,” she said. “She’ll know where my son’s books are.”

“Okay! Thanks Granny!” Al reached down and gave her a hug. Granny patted his back with a smile and then Al darted out the room and ran up the stairs. Ed was about to follow him when Granny called his name and he turned to frown at her.

“What?”

“There’s something you should be aware of,” she said. Her voice was pitched so it wouldn’t carry and it made Ed twitch because nothing good ever followed those words and that tone. “If he’s serious, he’ll have to study at the university in Central. It’s the only one which does medicine.” Which Ed hadn’t known, but the way she was looking at him told him she wasn’t done.

“Okay…?”

Granny sighed. “That means money, Ed. A lot of it.”

Oh.

“Shit,” he muttered and quickly ran through the numbers in his bank, the leftover from his time as a State Alchemist. It was more than enough to live comfortably in Resembool for several years, was just enough for another leg if necessary, but Central needed a much bigger budget. “Okay, uh – hit me.”

“My son spent six years studying and it cost around 550,000 cenz for one year’s tuition.”

Ed gaped. “You’re taking the piss!” but Granny didn’t laugh. “You’re serious. Fuck.” His hand cast out, grabbed the back of the closest chair and he sank into it, pressed his face into his hands.

“There’s also an admission fee – it was 250,000 when my son went, but it’s likely higher now.”

“Admission?”

“And that’s just for the university,” Granny’s lips thinned as the bad news kept coming. “My son stayed at the dorms, but I imagine you’ll go with Al?” she waited for his jerky nod before continuing. “Then you’ll need to rent a house. Last I heard, that would be another 150-190,000 cenz a month.”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“I – fuck, there’s like, maybe enough for a year, or two if we eat nothing but noodles but -” his throat tightened as he looked at her. “How can anyone afford that?”

Her eyebrows had risen, and she murmured, “That’s more than I thought,” before she sighed and picked up her pipe. She took a puff and admitted, “I couldn’t. My son only got there on scholarship.”

“Scholarship?” Ed latched onto that like a drowning man.

“If you can prove academic prowess, and that the university will benefit from giving you the education in some way, there’s a chance, but -”

“Well great,” he interrupted, “Al’s a genius, he can just blow ‘em all away and – what?”

“Ed,” she reached out and touched his elbow so gently his stomach did a strange nervous flip. “They look at school transcripts.”

Fuck.

After a long moment of staring at her, he put his face back in his hands again and took a few deep breaths. Granny didn’t say anything, but her hand was a reassuring weight on his elbow and kept him from flying into a rage.

Hadn’t they paid enough for their mistake?

“What am I supposed to do?” he whispered. “How can I tell him he can’t…?”

“If you took a job,” she said slowly and there was an edge to her tone which made Ed look at her. “You might be able to afford it.”

He snorted. “What job pays that much? It’s not like I can be a State Alchemist anymore.” He swallowed down a wave of bitterness. If he was still a State Alchemist, he could easily afford to send Al to university. Wasn’t that a shitty twist? He gave up his alchemy to give his brother back his body, but in doing so gave up Al’s chance for a future?

Granny was silent for so long he thought she hadn’t heard him, but then she said, “If you re-enlisted…”

Ed froze. Part of him thought that explained the edge in her voice, the other part of him railed against the idea. Back to the _military_?

“Even without your alchemy, they’re still the highest paying employment you could get, especially if they took in your previous years of experience…”

“I…” his breath caught as he met her eyes. She didn’t want him to, it was clear in the way her nails dug into his arm and her fingers were white against her pipe, but she’d also felt compelled to tell him it was an option because she knew he’d do anything for Al’s happiness. But before he could get another word out, two sets of footsteps pounded down the stairs. He and Granny broke apart; she turned back to her table, pretending to be tinkering, while Ed started towards the door, already preparing something to distract them –

He needn’t have worried. Al and Winry were chatting happily as they burst into the room, piles of books in their arms that made Ed blink and look incredulously between them.

“Seriously?” he crossed his arms.

“Uh huh!” Al’s smile was so wide it made Ed’s heart skip a beat. “There’s still more upstairs too!”

“You’ll have to get through these first though Al,” Winry said as she dumped her pile of books in a corner of the room. “Else the other ones won’t make sense. Here,” and she rummaged through her pile and picked two books out. “You should start with these.”

“Thank you!”

The sheer delight as Al took them and started flicking through felt like a punch to the gut. It proved beyond a doubt that Al had only been content recovering in Resembool over the past half year; if working towards being a doctor would make Al happy…

“You seriously wanna do this?” he asked.

“Yeah. It feels right, you know?” Al’s eyes unfocused, looking at something in his imagination.

… Then it was clear what he had to do.

"At least you'll be reading somewhere comfy then,” he said firmly and clapped a hand on Al’s shoulder. Al laughed but let Winry drag him away as she pointed out various parts of the book. Once they were gone, Ed turned back to Granny and squared his shoulders.

“Where do I start?”

* * *

Ed was pretty certain he'd be fucked without Granny.

He kept running through what they'd discussed in his head as he, Al and Winry went up to Central to investigate the university. The first point Granny had made was if he had enough to pay for a year, then he didn't need to re-enlist immediately; he could spend time trying to find something else first. The second point was that his history was unique; there was a good chance his reputation would open doors otherwise closed, like the scholarship.

He knew his occasional silences were puzzling Al and Winry, but it was easy to take advantage of their excitement and distract them with various medical questions. It was even easier once they reached the university. Al loved it, of course, and even Ed had to admit the architecture gave it an impressive appearance. They both fell in love with the library, larger than the public one in Central, and the headmaster was kind enough to let Al and Winry sit in one of the lectures to get an idea what it would be like.

In their absence, Ed pressed about scholarships.

"Scholarships, medical ones in particular, are only offered to our most talented potential students," Headmaster Hillard said and shook his head. "I'm sorry Mr Elric, but your brother doesn't qualify."

"You haven't given him the chance!" Ed slammed his hands down on the desk and scowled. "Al's the most fu-freaking talented you'll ever get -"

"So you say," the older man leant forward on his desk and clasped his hands together, clearly not intimidated. "All I hear are the words of a desperate older brother."

Ed reeled back like he'd been slapped. He stared at Hillard, took a deep breath and breathed out through his nose, instead of letting out the scream of frustration he wanted to. Those months with Greedling had taught him how to hold his temper - barely.

"Isn't there some test he could take, to prove how good he is?"

The headmaster sighed. "We're already taking a risk by accepting someone who never finished school and will be younger than our normal students," he held up a hand when Ed started to protest and Ed subsided, "I understand you say he was assisting you, the Fullmetal Alchemist, and if we were accepting you, it would be a different case. There are documents which support your story. We'd have to speak to your boss -"

"CO," Ed muttered and then cursed mentally.

"- your CO..." Hillard paused, "But, with his guarantee, we could offer one to you. But your brother never joined the military and there _is_ no paper trail to follow."

Of course it would come back to that fucking bastard in the end.

Ed swallowed. "What if my CO could guarantee Al?" Hillard sat back in his chair and studied Ed. The minutes passed agonisingly slowly. Eventually, he asked,

"Who was your CO?"

"Colonel Mustang," and then Ed remembered the newspaper from a few months ago and corrected, "Shi - oot, wait, he's been promoted, Brigadier General Mustang."

"The Flame Alchemist?" the headmaster's eyebrows rose. "The Hero of Ishval? The Rebel of Central?" That last one had come after the Promised Day where, despite the military's best efforts, Mustang's actions were being hailed as a rebellion (of the good kind, thankfully). Ed nodded and felt sick when he saw the gleam in the other man's eyes, watched the way he straightened and looked much more interested. "I suppose if the Brigadier General Mustang would be willing to confirm your story, we can offer young Alphonse the chance to qualify for a scholarship."

"He will," Ed said confidently. Mustang was a bastard, but only to Ed - if he knew it was for Al, he'd help.

Right?

"Then, until we receive word, we are at an impasse.” The headmaster smiled but it wasn’t warm as he reached into his desk and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here is my number. Would you like to wait outside the lecture hall for your brother and his friend?”

“Sure,” Ed gave him a smile back that was more teeth as he put the paper in his pocket.

At lunch, later, the only thing he passed on to Al and Winry was that Hillard would let them know later in the week when Al could take the qualifying test. Their happiness was enough to suppress the guilt he felt lying to them, but he kept telling himself it wouldn't be a lie because Mustang would say yes. Everything would work out fine, if he could work out how to ask the bastard without Al or Winry finding out.

In the end he worried for nothing because Al suggested it himself at the end of lunch.

"Do you think we could go see the Col - Brigadier General and everyone? It'd be so nice to see them."

Ed sighed in relief, and passed it off as annoyance by saying, "But nobody cares what that bastard's up to."

"Brother!" Al frowned. "Don't you want to see Lieutenant Havoc, at least? We haven't seen him since he returned." Once Havoc had finished physical therapy, he'd gone right back to Mustang's team - to no one's surprise. Ed did want to see him, but there was one problem.

"Fine, but I want you to stay at least two metres away from that fucker," he pointed his finger at Al.

"What?!" Al and Winry gaped.

"I didn't go through all that shit with your body for him to ruin it with his crappy cigarettes," Ed huffed and ignored the other two's sniggering.

And so they made their way to Central Command, which turned out to be only fifteen minutes walk away from the university. They spent a few minutes taking in the new building which, aside from a few places, had been completely rebuilt since the Promised Day, and then spent much longer trying to convince the guards to let them in. Three civilian teenagers, even if one of them was retired military, seemed to make people nervous and it wasn't until Winry covered Ed's mouth to stop his shouting and let Al do the sweet-talking that they finally got inside - with an escort.

"Seriously, we can find our own way," Ed tried to shoo the private away.

"I have my orders," the private glanced back over his shoulder, while his other hand adjusted his gun.

"What d'you think we'll do, blow up the place?"

The way the private stopped, turned and gave all three a considering glance made clear he hadn't, but now he was. Winry pulled a wrench out her pocket and smacked Ed on the head, before shooting an apologetic smile to the private while Ed groaned at her feet. Al crouched down and patted Ed's shoulder.

"Walk it off brother," he said cheerfully and assisted the slightly-dazed Ed down the hall, following the directions of the suddenly helpful private.

They walked up several floors and past many offices before they finally came to Mustang's. The whole time the private had been shooting Ed looks and, finally, Ed had had enough.

"What?!"

The private snapped back ahead to Mustang's office door. "Sorry, you just look a lot like how the Fullmetal Alchemist is described." Ed stopped and Winry squawked as she had to do a hop-step around him to avoid walking into him.

"That's cause I am," he said. "Or was, anyway. Got a problem?"

"I -"

Whatever the private planned to say was forgotten because the door opened then, Fuery's mouth falling open in surprise as he saw them, and then he broke into a wide grin and shouted over his shoulder,

"You were right!"

"Sir!" the private saluted.

"Oh, ah," Fuery looked a little flustered as he saluted back and said, "Dismissed." Then he turned to Ed, Al and Winry and smiled again. "Come on in guys!"

Ed forgot about the private to waggle his eyebrows at Fuery. "Sir?"

"I'm a second lieutenant now," Fuery explained as he moved to the side. Ed, Al and Winry walked in and were greeted by a wave of noisy greetings from Havoc and Breda. "I'm not the only one too!" He gestured at the desks and Havoc and Breda obligingly turned so their shoulders were in easy view.

"Holy shit," Ed grinned. "You all got promoted?"

"First Lieutenant looks pretty good, right?" Havoc said.

"We'll definitely pull in more girls now," Breda agreed. Winry snorted, but quietly enough only Ed, Al and Fuery heard it.

"Congratulations!" Al said, stepping forward to have a closer look, and Ed sniggered at the way the three soldiers did a double-take. It had been just over half a year since any of them had seen Alphonse, and Ed knew if he hadn't been there the whole time he would doubt whether the skeleton in the hospital and this beautiful healthy brother were the same too.

"Damn Al," Havoc gaped. "You're gonna have the girls falling all over you!"

Al's cheeks went red but he smiled. "If they do, then couldn't you come and sweep them off their feet?" The way Havoc, Breda and Fuery's eyes widened and then they all shared a speculative look made Ed scowl.

"No pimping out my brother!" he snapped.

"Sorry boss!" Havoc and Breda said, but their grins said otherwise. At least Fuery looked a little guilty, but his idiot brother just laughed.

"Don't encourage them!"

"Seriously though, you're both looking fine," Breda cast a speculative look at Ed and then stepped closer. He made a comically surprised face. "You've grown! Guys, look!" and then he twisted, gestured for Havoc and Fuery to come too.

"Woah," the others breathed.

This, Ed didn't mind at all. He straightened and fucking beamed as he realised he was just an inch or so below Havoc, the same height as Breda and was actually _taller_ than Fuery.

"Screw all you fuckers!" he crowed. "Who's laughing now?"

"Oh Ed..." Winry sighed, while Al just shook his head. Ed ignored them because he'd  _earned_ this.

"What brings you here, then?" Fuery asked once they'd all recovered and gestured at the empty seats. "Sit! The Brigadier and the Major are at a meeting, but they'll be back soon."

Ed whistled as he sank into one of the offered chairs. "Major?" he grinned. "They should've put her higher, she kicks ass way better than that bastard."

"Thank you, Edward."

Everyone spun around to the door, where Hawkeye and Mustang stood, and the three soldiers snapped to attention.

"Colonel!" Al said happily, then gasped. "Uh, I mean Brigadier General!"

"Hello Brigadier, Major," Winry waved a little bashfully.

"Alphonse, Miss Rockbell," Mustang nodded to both of them, his eyes lingering on Alphonse. "I hardly recognise you," he admitted. "Your time in Resembool seems to have been extremely beneficial."

"It's been great," Al enthused, "but really it's all down to Brother and Winry and Granny! They've been taking such good care of me, especially Brother!" The adoring look he sent Ed's way warmed his chest, but also his cheeks.

"You did all the hard work," he said because it was true. Al wouldn't have improved as quickly as he had if he hadn't been determined to.

"Don't be bashful Fullmetal, taking care of your brother is very noble." Mustang smirked.

"Fuck you."

"Sir," Hawkeye said, chastising and reminding, and Mustang's smirk only grew but this time it was directed at his subordinates.

"Havoc, speak with Operations and start preparing resources for a squad of around 100 in arid climates. Breda, Intelligence - go through everything they've got on what's been happening in the East. Fuery, find out what it would take to set up an entirely new phone line in the desert."

"Sir!" the three soldiers saluted, then hurried back to their desks and picked up their phones. Ed thought about the orders, then glanced at Hawkeye who nodded back.

"You're going back to Ishval," he realised. Winry and Al gasped.

"We are," Mustang's smile was fierce. "The Fuhrer has agreed we're no longer needed here. It's what we've been preparing for all this time."

"When?" Winry asked, leaning forward with her eyes wide. Ed frowned, wondering why she was so interested, and then wanted to hit himself. Of course she'd care if the military went back to Ishval, after what happened to her parents.

"In four weeks," Hawkeye answered.

"Which means we're going to be extremely busy from now on," Mustang strode past them to a door on the other side of the room Ed hadn't noticed. "So, you must be here for a reason. Did you destroy another building? I'm compelled to remind you the costs will come out of your own pocket," he directed this to Ed, whose jaw dropped.

"You - what -" he leapt to his feet with clenched fists, then remembered he needed to stay on Mustang's good side. He forced his jaw shut, swallowed down all the words he wanted to say and breathed out through his nose.

Al's hand on his arm helped calm him a little. "We just wanted to catch up sir," his brother said, "but we can come back when it's a better time."

"NO!" Only when everyone looked at him in surprise did Ed realise he'd shouted it. He coughed and shoved his hands in his pocket. "I gotta speak to you. It's important."

"Brother?"

"Ed?"

Winry and Al shared a look of confusion. Ed ignored them and held Mustang's gaze (and if part of his brain noticed he didn't have to tilt his head up even a tiny bit to do so, well, no one could blame it).

"Ah," Mustang said. "Is this about that issue with your retirement papers? By all means, it was your fault after all," he gestured inside his office. There was no issue, but Ed had grown up enough to recognise the excuse Mustang was offering. He'd be pissed at the bastard for reading him so easily, but for once it was in his favor.

"Yeah," he turned to his family and pulled a sheepish look all too easily. "Fuckers sent a letter saying I didn't do it correctly or some shit, so I gotta sort it out. You wait out here, okay?"

"Okay..." Al sounded dubious but didn't protest.

"Don't take too long!" Winry said.

Ed waved dismissively as he followed Mustang into the office and sat down in the chair, while Mustang shut the door and then sat down behind his desk. He rested his elbows on the desk and assumed his default pose of chin on his hands.

"Go."

"Uh..." Ed blinked. "Thanks - for, y'know, out there..."

"Fullmetal," Mustang sighed as one hand moved to massage his temple. "I don't have time to pander to your whims, so either state what you need or get out and let me work."

It was surprising how much that hurt.

Ed leaned back before he could stop himself because he hadn't expected a warm welcome, but he'd expected... something. Years of habit made him want to turn around and storm out, but he was here for Al so he shoved down the hurt and held himself tall.

"Al wants to go to university, be a doctor, but the shitty headmaster won't get over the fact Al came with me on missions and didn't go to school," he scowled. "He won't let Al apply for a scholarship 'cause there's no documents -"

"And where do I come in?" Mustang interrupted.

Ed clenched his hand into a fist and grounded out, "I need you to speak to the asshole and say Al'd be a great fucking student, he helped you out a ton and he should get the chance of a scholarship. Here's the number," he took the number out his pocket and put it on the desk. Mustang studied it for a few seconds, then looked back at Ed.

"Fine. I'll do my best to keep the stories of your destruction to a minimum," Mustang smirked. "Is that all?"

"Oy, don't fuck this up for Al bastard!" Ed scowled. "Al never did any of that shit, ok? He was like, an angel. Saving kittens. Tell him about the kittens."

"Of course," Mustang's smirk grew. "It's far too easy to find good stories of your brother. And what do I say about you?"

Ed shrugged. "Why d'you gotta tell him anything? S'not like I'm gonna be a student." That knocked the smirk right off Mustang's face.

"You're not?" he frowned.

"Course not," Ed frowned back at Mustang. "Why would I?"

"I would've assumed...." Mustang paused and then straightened and narrowed his eyes. "Did you not see the library?" How the fuck did Mustang know him well enough that if anything _had_ been able to tempt him, it would've been that? "There are thousands of books in there."

Ed crossed his arms and looked away because knowing that was painful. "I know! But..." Mustang remained silent, just kept staring like Ed was a puzzle he couldn't work out, and Ed found himself admitting, "It's not like I'd be a good student anyway. I'd probably piss off all the teachers and they'd kick me out 'cause I knew way more than them, and besides, someone's gotta pay the bills and shit, 'cause there's no fucking way I'm gonna let Al work and study. It's the only way, and doing this would make him so fucking happy..." Mustang made an 'ah' kind of noise, like he'd come to some kind of realisation, and Ed huffed, "What?"

"Nothing," the bastard said and then picked up the paper with the headmaster's number. "I will have Hawkeye contact you and let you know once this is done. You're staying at the Griffin?"

"Right," Ed watched Mustang suspiciously, but the man just smiled blandly back. That only made it worse. "I'll just... be going then..." A little unnerved, he inched his way to the door and still, Mustang just looked so innocent it hurt. Ed let out a frustrated sigh and grabbed the door handle, though he hesitated before opening it. "Thanks, Brigadier." He said quietly, and before the bastard could see his cheeks redden he yanked the door open, just barely stopping it from slamming into the wall. "We're leaving!" he shouted to the office and stormed through to the other office exit without waiting for any response.

He swung open the door and was so eager to get out before anyone asked any awkward questions, he didn't see the gun until it was pressed into his chest.

"The fuck?" he said, blinking, at the private who'd shown them the way earlier.

"Edward!"

"Boss!"

"Brother!"

The shouts of his friends made him tense, but he didn't dare look away. His heart pounded as he looked the private in the eye. The private was young, probably only a few years older than Ed, but the pain in his eyes was one Ed knew well. Someone close to him had died, and somehow -

"It's your fault," the private said, his voice trembling and hands shaking.

"Edward, get down!" Hawkeye ordered and there was the click of a gun, others following after, but Ed had been caught in the doorframe and he knew none of the soldiers would have a clear shot.

"Some hero," the private said, sounding so _bitter_ , and Ed said,

"I -"

The gun went off.

He didn't feel the pain at first, though the force made him stagger back a few feet. Then he fell and it was only when his back hit the ground that the pain exploded, pulling a moan out of him as activity exploded around him. There were more gunshots and he saw, as if he were in a dream, Havoc and Hawkeye take off through the door, while Breda leaned over him and pressed a piece of clothing against his chest, hard enough that the pain increased significantly and he couldn't stop another choked groan.

"A-Al, W-win," he gasped and they appeared in his vision like magic.

Al fell to the ground and pulled Ed's head in his lap, eyes filling with tears as he said, "It's gonna be okay Ed."

"M'fine," he tried to say and managed to dull some of the pain by focusing entirely on moving his arm up to brush Al's cheek.

"Where are the medics?" Al demanded and looked up beyond Ed.

"On their way!" was that Fuery? He sounded so scared.

"How's his breathing?" That was definitely Mustang.

"Wet. Rapid," Breda grimaced and bent even further over, putting all his considerable weight on Ed's chest and Ed cursed.

"Stay with us Ed," Winry said, settling her hands in his hair and gently stroking. "Talk to us."

Talking hurt, but the pain on her and Al's faces hurt more, so Ed tried, "Dunno what -" and coughed, felt something bubble out of his mouth.

"Pupils?"

"Dilated."

"Anything," Al said and his voice cracked as he said, "What you want to do. It's all been about me recently."

"S-stupid question," Ed gasped out as his vision started to blur.

"It's not stupid. _Please_ , focus. Look at me, Ed. ED!"

Ed blinked rapidly and Al came back into focus, face as white as chalk. "Uh..." he didn't remember the question.

"Where the hell are the damn medics?"

"I'll ring again!"

"Ed," Winry pleaded and she pulled on his hair. It helped centre him. "Think. Do you want to study with Al?"

Study with Al? That was a nice idea. They could sit in lectures and doodle instead of listen, or quiz each other on alchemy rather than Amestrian. Like when they were kids. Except that was gone - they'd destroyed that with their mistake. Always move forward, never back. Studying together would be going backwards.

"I want..." he choked out and stared up at his family, wondering why they didn't seem to get there was only one thing he wanted.

"He's losing too much blood!"

"Damn it! Fullmetal!"

"You want?" Tears fell from Al's eyes but Ed barely blinked as they landed on his forehead and nose.

"You..." he wheezed. "Doctor... married... kids..." The image of Al years down the line, living in their old house in Resembool, made him smile, though for some reason Al's face crumpled instead. Wasn't this what he wanted to know? "S'the best... future... for me..."

"In here! Hurry!"

"Ed, hold on!"

"Brother!"

His vision was dimming but he'd done what Al and Winry had wanted, and other hands were lifting him now and they were gone, so he felt it was only fair he get some sleep. He was strangely tired...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, regarding the money, I read cenz = yen, and used the same figures that would cost a year of university in Japan. Which was found on a Google search, so if the numbers are totally off then whoops oh well.


	2. Chapter 2

"In here! Hurry!"

Fuery was standing at the door and frantically waving at someone outside. He moved to the side a few seconds later to let three medics race in, one of them carrying a stretcher under his arm.

"Ed, hold on!" Miss Rockbell said before one of the medics pushed her back.

"Brother!" Alphonse shouted, ready to fight the medic forcing him away, but then Miss Rockbell dragged him back and kept her arms around him, as likely providing comfort as restraint. From the way the shadows darkened on Alphonse's face, Roy suspected anyone other than Miss Rockbell would've been hit for doing so.

Two medics settled around Fullmetal and assessed the damage while the third prepared the stretcher.

"Can you last a few minutes more?" one of them asked Breda. His subordinate nodded, never looking away from his hands, but Roy saw his arms trembling.

"What weapon?" the other medic called out as he cut away at Fullmetal's top and removed what clothing he could.

"9mm," Fuery said.

"How close?"

"Point blank," Breda gritted out.

The medics all stilled for a moment and shared a grim look. Roy knew it was reflected on his own face; statistics from reports over the years ran through his head, all of them declaring Fullmetal dead already.

"He'll bleed out if we move him," one of the medics said as he pinched Fullmetal's thumb and fingers.

"He's bleeding out now!" Alphonse roared.

Stay or go - either way, Fullmetal would die unless the bleeding stopped.

"Move back!" Roy ordered, stepping forward and pulling on his gloves. There wasn't time to argue anymore and he was damned if he was going to lose a subordinate the same way he'd lost Hughes. "I'll cauterise it."

"Sir!" the medics moved away. Breda was the only one left next to Fullmetal.

"On three," Roy told Breda who nodded. "One, two, _three_!"

Breda ripped his jacket away from Fullmetal's chest, revealing the wound, and Roy snapped his fingers. It was difficult to see the exact area because of all the blood and bruising, but he tried to keep his flame contained and didn't blink at the smell of burning flesh, though the gagging noises around him indicated the others weren't as strong-willed. He cut out the flame after a few seconds and waited for the medics to assess the wound, his stomach twisting into knots as he realised Fullmetal hadn't even twitched.

After a moment the medics nodded and started to move Fullmetal on the stretcher, only for blood to splatter out beneath him. Someone let out a tiny moan but Roy just snapped his fingers again and cauterised the exit wound as well. Finally, Fullmetal was put on the stretcher and raced out the room. Alphonse and Miss Rockbell followed and before they could get out of sight, Roy barked,

"Fuery!"

"Sir!" Fuery nodded and ran after them.

Roy grabbed the nearest chair and shoved Breda into it. Hawkeye and Havoc hadn't returned, and he tried not to read into what that meant as he watched Breda slump and shut his eyes.

"You did well."

"But was it enough?" Breda's voice was hollow and worn-out. Roy couldn't answer even if he'd wanted to - he didn't know if he could believe Fullmetal would come back from what Hughes couldn't. He lowered his gaze to Breda's arms and hands, soaked in bright red blood, then to his knees and stomach, covered in darker bloodstains, and finally to his jacket, almost unrecognisable where it had been discarded on the floor.

"Get cleaned up, then head to the infirmary," he said. Breda nodded, stood and swayed, but snapped out of it when Roy squeezed his shoulder.

"Sir," Breda acknowledged and then, moving like he'd aged fifty years in the past few minutes, walked out the room.

Roy was left alone.

His gaze wandered back to where Fullmetal had been lying and settled on the large blood-stain. Between it, the jacket and Breda, it was a wonder the teenager had any blood left. Roy'd seen far worse in his time, but there was a difference between someone being shot out in the field and in his _god damn_ office. He snapped his gaze to the door, unable to look at his failure anymore, and folded his arms. Where the hell were Hawkeye and Havoc?

The phone rang and made him jump.

"Mustang."

"Sir," Hawkeye said. He didn't sigh in relief, but it was close.

"Report." Roy's grip tightened on the phone when she didn't immediately respond. "Major?"

"The target escaped."

For a moment he thought he'd misheard. " _Major_?" he repeated, unable to keep the disbelief out of his tone.

"We pursued until the canteen, but he blended in with the lunch rush. We never got a good look at him." There was a tiny catch in her voice, one he only picked up because of their years working together, and he shut his eyes. Whatever words he could say, she'd already said to herself.

"Send Havoc to the infirmary; he's now on guard duty," he ordered. "If the killer is still out there -"

"Killer?" The slightly breathless word sounded like it had been torn out without her permission, and Roy remembered she didn't know anything about Fullmetal's condition. He opened his eyes and his gaze flickered to the blood-stain automatically. "Shooter," he corrected. "He may try again. Meet me at the front desk, main entrance."

"Yes sir."

He hung up and belatedly realised he'd gripped the phone so hard it'd cracked a little. He moved to another phone, called the switchboard and asked to be put through to Operations.

"This is Brigadier General Mustang," he said. "Alert all personnel; I want this building locked down immediately! Nobody goes in or out until I say so."

"A lockdown, sir?" the person on the other end repeated, sounding panicked.

"There's been a shooting and the culprit is still on the loose. We can't let him escape."

"Sir!"

With that sorted, Roy hung up and dialled the switchboard again, this time to be put through to the infirmary. While he was waiting for someone to pick up, he heard the announcement come through the speakers in every corridor about the lockdown. Shouting erupted outside his office, but Roy ignored it because Fuery had just answered the phone.

"How is he?" Roy demanded.

"I-it's not good sir," Fuery's voice trembled a little and the times he'd seen the pair of them hanging around Fuery's desk, enthusiastically conversing, flashed through Roy's mind. Of all his team, Fuery'd got along best with Fullmetal. "They're performing surgery now, but..." Roy took a deep breath, tried to prepare himself to receive word later that Fullmetal hadn’t made it and found the notion rejected so violently he went a little dizzy.

He fought back the nausea and asked, "Do you think Alphonse or Miss Rockbell are able to answer a few questions?”

“... No, sir.”

"Understood. I need you to stand guard until either Havoc or Breda arrives, then return to my office; the shooter is still out there and may try again."

Fuery gasped. "They didn't catch him? Sir."

"We will. He can't escape - the building is on lockdown." Roy smiled grimly. "The Major and I will be investigating, but I need you by the phones to liaise."

“Yes sir.” He hung up on Fuery as well and stared down at the phone for a long moment, his mind racing through his mental check-list of what he needed to do. Deciding he'd done all he could for now, he went back to his personal office to grab his coat and then left the outer office, carefully avoiding the blood-stain.

Whispers followed him through the corridor and several people tripped over themselves to get out of his way. It would've been entertaining any other time but, with the memory of Fullmetal bleeding out still fresh, he speculated to keep his mind busy. The most likely possibility was the shooter had interacted with Fullmetal on his way to the office - how else would they have known Fullmetal was there? Less likely was the possibility the shooter had seen Fullmetal outside the base and followed him in.

The Major waiting at the end of the corridor just before the main entrance was a welcome sight.

"Sir!" she saluted and he nodded back, noticing new wrinkles around her eyes and lips. Together they walked to the front desk which was pure chaos, an immediate result of the lockdown. Roy scanned the sergeants and corporals, all following the orders of a tall man in the middle - a Master Sergeant.

"Are you in charge?" he barked as he strode towards him.

"Yes sir!" The Master Sergeant came to attention. "Master Sergeant Cooper. Your orders?"

"I need to speak to whoever handled visitors and security for the past hour."

Cooper turned to look at his team. "Underhill! Thomas!" he ordered. One sergeant and one corporal stepped forward. "Answer the man's questions."

"Sir!" they said and turned to Roy.

"At ease," he said and, to Cooper, added, "I need your office."

As they followed Cooper, everyone around them went back to trying to manage the chaos. When they were inside the office Roy let Hawkeye take the questioning; he would watch their expressions and reactions.

"What is this about, sirs?" the Master Sergeant asked.

"There has been a shooting," Hawkeye's tone was clipped and all three of the soldiers turned pale. “Did you let three teenagers enter the building?” she pulled out a notebook and pen.

Underhill and Thomas didn’t quite exchange an ‘oh shit’ look, but they clearly wanted to. “Yes sir.”

“What time?”

“Around 1300 sir, but we can give you a specific time if we check the log?” the sergeant said. Hawkeye nodded and he raced out, returned and reported, "13:07 sir." Roy exhaled slowly and quietly enough no one would notice; less than half an hour after his arrival, Fullmetal had been shot. It was just another lesson he didn’t need in how fast things could go wrong.

“Did they come alone?” Hawkeye pressed.

“Yes sir. Two boys and a girl. One of the boys claimed he used to be the Fullmetal Alchemist and grew angry when we questioned him,” the corporal replied in a resigned tone; he clearly expected to be told the boy wasn’t, actually, the Fullmetal Alchemist.

“They wanted to see you, sir,” the sergeant continued. “We gave them a private as an escort just in case. Private Wilkins."

"He volunteered," the corporal added and Roy narrowed his eyes. That was a little suspicious.

“Where is he now?” Hawkeye asked. The sergeant glanced to his partner who shook his head back, so Hawkeye directed her question to Cooper.

“He went on lunch after his return sir,” Cooper said. “I can send for him?”

“Do so,” Hawkeye nodded. Cooper disappeared to pass on the orders, then returned.

There wasn't much more information to get out of the three soldiers, nor the rest of the staff when they questioned further. No one had seen anyone acting suspiciously and the only people to enter after Fullmetal and before the shooting were known officers. Roy glanced at Hawkeye and knew by the way her lips twisted unhappily back that they were both thinking the odds were significantly higher now an enlisted soldier had done the crime.

The new question was - alone, or as part of a group?

"I need your phone," he told Cooper who nodded. Hawkeye and Cooper left him alone, to wait outside for the private, and Roy phoned his office. "Report," he said when Fuery picked up.

"Sir! As of five minutes ago, Ed was still in surgery," Fuery said. "Lieutenant Breda is now with Lieutenant Havoc on guard duty. The Fuhrer also called sir, he wants you to call back at first opportunity." Roy carefully didn't curse. He'd hoped they'd have a bit longer to gather information before he had to report.

There was no way he would turn up empty-handed.

"If he rings again, tell him I'm gathering intel and will report when I have something," he said.

"Yes sir."

Hawkeye knocked on the door then, so Roy hung up and beckoned her in. A private and the master sergeant followed behind her, the private's eyes wide and face pale. He looked like he was about to faint as he saluted. Roy kept his face blank but wanted to frown. He was just a kid, barely old enough to shave, and must have been part of the new recruits since the Promised Day. Was his nervousness the normal kind from meeting a senior officer, or something more?

"I understand you escorted three teenagers to my office," he said. The private nodded jerkily but didn't speak. "I expect a verbal response soldier!"

"Yes sir!" the private answered, his voice squeaky and shaky - probably from the nerves.

“Did you see anyone suspicious?” he asked. “Did anyone stop you, or show too much interest?”

“I -” the private swallowed and licked his lips. “N-no, sir, not that I saw, but…”

“But?”

“The taller boy – the Fullmetal Alchemist? - he talked about blowing up the building.”

Roy resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Definitely Fullmetal. The rest of the words sunk in and he couldn't stop a double-take. The private had said _'the taller boy_ ' when talking about Fullmetal. For a few seconds, there was a roaring in his ears - perhaps the world was ending?

"How did you know he was the Fullmetal Alchemist?" Hawkeye covered for him even as she shot him a look.

"Oh, ah..." the private fidgeted and glanced at the floor, hiding his expression. "I'd heard descriptions from other soldiers, and newspapers, and he looked like what they said, but mainly... he said he was." A thought seemed to occur to him and his head snapped up, revealing what little colour left in his face had disappeared. "Was he not? He was lying?" If possible, his voice went even higher.

Roy's instincts were screaming at him there was more than just the usual nervousness, so instead of answering he narrowed his eyes and asked, "Are you alright private?" because the kid now looked like he was going to be sick.

"Yes sir," the private replied but clearly wasn't. A quick glance showed Cooper was seconds away from stepping in, as was his duty as CO, so Roy made his last question count.

"Why did you volunteer to escort them?"

"I..." the private swallowed. "He's the hero of the people, isn't he? He's meant to save people, normal people, like me and -" he cut himself off and started shaking.

Roy's instincts told him to push, but then Cooper stepped in with a quiet, "Sir."

All he could say was, "If you remember anything else, inform the Master Sergeant or come directly to myself or Major Hawkeye. Understood?" because he didn't have any legal reason to push further. 

"Yes sir," the private's voice was barely a whisper.

It was difficult to walk out the office with barely any new information. He wanted to get Hawkeye's opinion on the private, but there were too many ears around for Roy to feel comfortable and, judging by the way she didn't initiate conversation either, Hawkeye felt similarly. That said, there was still one place he could stop for information before he had to report to the Fuhrer.

"Infirmary," he said and her step faltered for a second.

"Yes, sir," she replied and the catch from earlier was back. Roy wanted to reassure her she'd done all she could, but the gut feeling he was missing something told him he couldn't even reassure himself.

This time as he walked through the corridors, the whispers had become hushed comments and people practically flung themselves out of their way, including one notable case where someone saw them and prompted turned on the spot and walked the other way. He wondered what they'd heard. One floor up from the main entrance, they turned into the corridor outside the infirmary and spotted Havoc standing outside the door.

"Sir!" the Lieutenant saluted with a grim look.

"Any update?"

"No change," Havoc glanced at the door. "Chief's still in surgery. The other two are inside with Breda."

Roy nodded and walked past him into the infirmary itself. There were two rows of neat beds, with Alphonse and Miss Rockbell on the furthest one from the entrance but closest to the operating theatre, which was used only in emergencies. Breda sat on a bed in the middle, but jumped to attention when he saw Roy, and there were a few nurses who turned to watch him expectantly. Miss Rockbell turned at the sound of their footsteps and she looked drained. Strands of hair had fallen out of her ponytail and her eyes were blood-shot, but her voice was strong as she asked,

"Did you get him?"

He shifted to stand in the position of at ease as he answered, with genuine regret in his voice, "I'm sorry." 

She blinked, then the exhaustion faded to anger. "He's still out there?!"

"Lieutenants Havoc and Breda are standing guard," he reassured. "We're also investigating every angle we can to identify the shooter." At that, Alphonse whipped round so fast everyone jumped.

"What did you say?"

Roy tensed at the fury in his tone, but kept his own voice calm as he repeated, "We're investigating every angle -"

"No. You said to identify the shooter." Alphonse stared. "But we know who it was!"

Butterflies suddenly appeared in his stomach.

"Damn it!" he snapped while Hawkeye inhaled sharply next to him. He'd _thought_ to ask them first, but Fuery had put him off. How much time had they wasted? "Did you see him?"

"No, but I recognised his voice! It was the private who took us to your office!"

Roy turned to Hawkeye and ordered, "Go." She bolted out the door and he turned to Breda. "Go to Personnel and find out everything you can about a Private Wilkins. Young, less than twenty. Recruited since the Promised Day. CO is Master Sergeant Cooper."

"Sir!"

As Breda left, Roy hurried over to the Infirmary phone and called his office.

"Contact the MPs," he ordered Fuery. "I need a Private Wilkins arrested ASAP. CO's Master Sergeant Cooper. There's a high chance he'll flee, if he hasn't already."

"Yes sir!"

"I also need the line for the main entrance," he said and memorised the number Fuery listed it off. Then he hung up, and swiftly dialled it before he could forget.

"Ma-"

"This is Brigadier General Mustang," he interrupted whoever had picked up the phone. "I need Master Sergeant Cooper immediately!"

"Sir!" and there was an explosion of noise, before a slightly breathless Cooper said, "Sir?"

"Do not let Private Wilkins out your sight!" The silence from Cooper was ominous and Roy shut his eyes. "Where is he?"

"I sent him to the infirmary after your meeting."

It was more difficult to hold back the curse, but there was only a little strain in his tone as he ordered, "Alert all your personnel. If you see him, hold him. He's wanted for attempted murder of the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Cooper gasped and said, "Yes sir!"

Roy hung up and rubbed his face. It was unlikely the private would come to the infirmary, but even if he did he wouldn't get past Havoc, Alphonse and Miss Rockbell. Reassured Fullmetal was safe - relatively, anyway - Roy straightened and glanced back at the beds, where Alphonse was looking shell-shocked and Miss Rockbell was shaking in fury.

"We will catch him," he promised, then left the infirmary. "Stay sharp! I'm going to update the Fuhrer," he informed Havoc who saluted and nodded.

Updating the Fuhrer didn't take long. Grumman had already heard parts and all Roy did was fill in the blanks, though he did lend his authority for the lockdown and search to continue (Roy hadn't doubted - a shooter in a military base could evolve into a huge problem). As he left Grumman's office, he considered where to go next. He wanted to join the search, see if Hawkeye had made it before the private scarpered, and decided to head back to his own office where Fuery had settled at his desk with a pair of headphones and was monitoring the stations across the base.

Fuery tried to get up and salute him but got tangled in a few wires. Roy waved dismissively, and his subordinate settled back down.

"Give me an update on the search," he said.

"Sir! Still no change from Ed," Fuery's shoulders slumped but then he pulled himself together and continued, "Squads have been organised to comb each floor and wing. All non-essential personnel from the third and fourth floor have been moved to the canteen, while those on the ground, first and second have been moved to the main hall to wait out the search. No one has found him yet, but -" he broke off and twisted a dial, blinked and then his jaw dropped. Roy tensed. "Sir! There's gunfire reported on the ground floor, west wing."

Ground floor, where he'd last sent Hawkeye.

"Tell whoever's in command down there I'm on my way," he ordered and hurried out his office, down the corridors and stairs until he was on the ground floor.

He was there for just over a minute before he heard gunfire and he ran towards it, passing through several long-connected offices, and turned one more corner - and someone ran into him so hard he stumbled back and sideways, and had to catch himself on the wall. He let out a hiss as his stomach throbbed but was distracted when he heard footsteps. He snapped his head up just in time to catch the back of Private Wilkins dashing through another door.

"Damn it!"

"Sir!" Before Roy could even move Hawkeye ran past him, followed by half a dozen soldiers, and followed the route the Private took.

Instead of running after them, Roy pictured the base layout in his head - easy, after just navigating it himself - and took a different route, cutting across a main corridor and two side offices to come out near the western exit. He waited long enough to almost start doubting himself, but then his patience paid off as he spotted a flustered Wilkins stumble out an office room, looking over his shoulder worriedly.

Roy cleared his throat and Wilkins spun around, eyes widening in horror as he caught sight of Roy.

"End of the line," Roy smirked.

"I-" Wilkins' eyes darted left and right and Roy snapped his fingers, creating small fires in the surrounding doors to discourage Wilkins from using them. It meant his only way out was forward past Roy, or back the way he came (which Hawkeye was hopefully covering). "What do you want?" the private asked as he realised he had no choice but to engage.

"What do I want?" Roy repeated in disbelief. "You shoot one of _my_ subordinates, and you ask what I want?"

"But you hate him!" Wilkins said as he took a step towards a nearby desk. "I thought you'd be happy!"

"... You shot him for me?" Roy's heart pounded so loudly it almost drowned out anything else. 

"Wow, you really are arrogant..." Wilkins shook his head. Roy's vision wobbled, the relief was so strong, but it flashed away when Wilkins explained, "I shot him because he deserved it."

"Perhaps a punch, but a point-blank shot to the chest? Fullmetal's got a talent for pissing off a lot of people, but he's hardly worthy of a court-martial. What did he do?" Roy forced a smirk and belatedly wondered what was keeping Hawkeye.

The private moved to stand beside the desk and said, "He killed my brother." There was a world of grief in those words.

Roy studied the private again, took in the shakiness of his hands, his too-wild eyes... he'd been driven to madness by grief. How the hell had they let him pass the psychological evaluation?

"That's a serious allegation," Roy said, trying to keep him talking. Once the kid was taken by the MPs, it was unlikely Roy'd get such a good chance to question again and if nothing else, turning up with some answers to Alphonse and Miss Rockbell would make up for allowing this to happen in the first place (seriously, where the hell was Hawkeye?). "How did he do it?"

"Y-you believe me?" the private paused where he'd been stepping behind the desk and stared at Roy.

"Sir!" Hawkeye finally exploded on the scene, looking a little worse for the wear, and Roy took his eyes off the private to hunt for any injuries - that was his mistake.

"No!" the private lunged and grabbed a gun Roy hadn't seen, hidden behind the desk. He twisted, backed up against a wall and aimed his gun at Hawkeye. "I won't go!" he shouted.

"Stand down soldier," Roy ordered as he took a step forward and studied the kid's hands. He'd burn them before the kid got a shot off on his Major.

"Drop your weapon!" Hawkeye shouted, her gun trained on Wilkins, and then the soldiers Roy'd seen following earlier appeared and copied her.

"I've got nothing left to lose now," Wilkins shook his head.

"Shit," Roy cursed and snapped his fingers because nothing good followed those words. Fire leapt at the private's hands and he shouted out in pain, flinched and accidentally pulled the trigger as he tried to escape the flames. The bullets went flying and one smashed a window near Roy, sending glass into his face. He flinched back before it could reach his eyes, as the soldiers scattered from the other bullets - except for Hawkeye who took a shot and then fell to one knee, a hand going to cover her thigh with a grimace.

The bullets stopped as the private ran out and fell over, screaming and clutching his own leg.

"Major!" Roy hurried over to her, but she was already on her feet again.

"Just a graze sir," she said, even as her trouser leg slowly turned red. Roy ripped off his jacket and knelt, tying it around her thigh to hold off the bleeding.

"Corporal!" he barked at the closest solider. "Get her to the infirmary."

"Belay that corporal," Hawkeye said, staring Roy down, and then she gestured to his face. "You're bleeding."

"You're already paler than you were," Roy said, as he realised there were tiny stings on his face. Probably from the glass. "One subordinate bleeding out is enough." It was unintentional, but the reference to her last near-death was enough for her to sigh and nod. She stepped back and put an arm around the corporal, letting him help her to the infirmary. Roy watched her go and then turned around and stalked the now whimpering private on the ground. He snarled and moved the kid with his boot until he was on his back, and then planted the same foot down in the centre of the kid's chest.

"Pathetic," he pushed down hard enough to make the kid gasp and it satisfied some of his anger. "You shoot a man in his chest, attempt to shoot others, but can barely handle a light graze?"

"Please leave the prisoner to us, sir," an MP said as he appeared at Roy's elbow, but the dark look on his face told Roy he was saying because he had to, not because he cared. Roy glanced over his shoulder and saw another MP being escorted away, a hand clutching his bloody arm.

"Very well," he said, the words getting stuck in his throat, as he warred with the desire to _burn_ this kid alive for shooting two of his subordinates. "Let me make it easier for you," he snapped his fingers. Nothing changed that the eye could see, but after a few seconds the private started gasping and his eyes went even wider, his hands reaching up as he stared in betrayal at Roy. "Yes, I have removed all the oxygen around you," Roy told him, unable to stop a little glee escaping. The private's skin and lips started to change colour too. "Don't worry; you'll see me again soon."

The dark smirk Roy gave was hopefully the last thing the kid saw before his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell unconscious. With another finger snap, Roy allowed the oxygen to return and stepped back so the MP could take him. He glanced around the scene, took in the bullet holes on the walls where they'd ricocheted, and shook his head, fighting against a wave of fatigue that made him want to sit and rest for just a few minutes.

"If anyone needs me, I'll be in the infirmary," he said to the remaining corporals and started to walk away. He'd done all he could; now, he just had to wait and see.

Fullmetal had a habit of defying the laws of existence, despite being a scientist, and Roy prayed he would do so again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Intense chapter. Roy got a proper work-out! I feel it necessary to point out, I'm not a doctor nor a soldier, so if there's anything horrendously wrong please tell me, otherwise just pass it off as artistic license haha. I tried to make it realistic, because I do reckon the military guys would be all over that shit - it's kinda their job to perform in stressful situations, after all - instead of just chilling next to their friend like 'oh noooo angst angst angst' when there's something they could do. Of course, usually there's a crash later.....
> 
> Also no beta, sadly. Point out any mistakes. <3 And sorry for OCs. Aside from the bad guy, they won't come back. Woo. 
> 
> Next chapter: we find out what happened to Ed. Dun dun dun.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING!**
> 
> The first part of this chapter might strike a little too close to home for some of you. In _italics_ , the events and what came after are summarised in newspaper/radio format. This serves two functions: 1) to time skip, 2) to give you an idea of the public reaction and set up wider context (important later in the story). However, the style loosely imitates real news stories on shootings. If that's too much for you, please skip ahead until the writing isn't in italics. 
> 
> END WARNING!
> 
> I genuinely tried to write it another way, but news format was the only way that felt right (so now there's loads of half-finished scenes just laying around, oy...). That, and the research I did to imitate the style, is the reason this chapter came out a little later than normal (I kept needing to take breaks because reading all those news stories was pretty upsetting...) anyway, hope you enjoy!

* * *

_**Radio Capital**_  
_**17:13**_  
_".... this broadcast with breaking news. We've just heard Central Command has come out of a 'lock down' - for those who don't know, that means no one could go in or out the building. It's only ever used in emergencies, so you've got to wonder just what exactly's been happening over the past few hours. We'll keep you updated as..."_

_**17:27**  
"... further update to the 'lock down' at Central Command. Rumour has it there was a manhunt for a private involved in a shooting. So far there's been no official confirmation, but if it's true it would be..."_

_**17:36**  
"... and just in! Our team on the ground have just confirmed there was indeed a shooter inside Central Command. No official reports on casualties yet, but we did get a juicy tidbit - the man who ordered the lock down was none other than our very own rebel, Brigadier General Mustang. Just like him to be in the thick of things! Mustang is often fighting for..."_

_**17:52** _  
_"... just received a shocking update to the casualties reported earlier - it appears one of those in critical condition is the former Fullmetal Alchemist! This is the first we've heard of the People's Hero since his retirement last Spring, citing injuries sustained in the rebellion. This may be yet another strike against the Fuhrer as if they can't even look after someone as famous as the Fullmetal Alchemist, what hope is there for the little people? Fuhrer Grumman's recent policies in the wake of the rebellion have..."_

_**18:00**  
"... perhaps just as shocking, it's been confirmed the other casualty in critical condition is Major Hawkeye! Apparently she was injured while taking down the shooter. Still no official statement from the Fuhrer, but with both the former Fullmetal Alchemist and the infamous Hawk's Eye in critical condition, we're looking to Brigadier General Mustang for answers. Perhaps that's why he was the one to order the 'lock down' which no doubt saved many more lives..."_

_**18:28**  
"... and in a few minutes, the Fuhrer will finally release a statement about today's events. Now, say what you will about Bradley, but he wouldn't have left it this long without acting. If our Rebel of Central called the lock down, and the Hawk's Eye took down the shooter - presumably on Mustang's orders - then what, exactly, was our Fuhrer doing while it was going on? Stay tuned for his broadcast which..." _

* * *

_**CENTRAL EVENING NEWS ** **  
'HERO OF THE PEOPLE' SHOT IN CENTRAL COMMAND**_

_Military and civilians alike are left reeling as they try to understand exactly what happened earlier this afternoon, when Central Command went into lock down for several hours following a shooting. There were six known casualties, though only two are in critical condition -  Edward Elric, the former Fullmetal Alchemist, and Major Riza Hawkeye, better known as the Hawk's Eye and Brigadier General Mustang's second in command.  
_

_Although the specifics of their injuries have yet to be released, a nurse caught leaving has admitted, "The Major's odds are very good." When pressed for information about the former Fullmetal Alchemist, she refused to comment.  
_

_In a statement, the Fuhrer called the shooting ‘deplorable’ and praised the military brass for their swift response which prevented further casualties, specifically naming Brigadier General Mustang and Major Riza Hawkeye ‘who were instrumental in apprehending the shooter’. When questioned on why this happened, he said, “We cannot provide any information while the investigation is on-going,” although he did later reveal it was “seemingly one individual with a grudge, and a repeat occurrence was extremely unlikely”._

_The identity of the shooter has not been released, though early reports suggested a private in the military. For those unaware, a private is the lowest ranking possible, given to all new recruits fresh out of training. In addition, even though the motive behind the shooting is currently unknown, perhaps their shared connection provides a clue - both are intimately tied to Brigadier General Mustang and a man of Mustang's renown wouldn't have gotten as far as he had without making a few enemies.  
_

_Stay tuned to our radio programme for more up-to-date information on these events._

* * *

_**Capital Heart FM**  
**20:26** _

_"... it's the update you've all been desperate for. We've finally received the details of the Fullmetal Alchemist's condition and I gotta tell you, it's a doozy. Most importantly, he's alive right now, and I'm sure you're all just as relieved as we are to hear that. Unfortunately, that's the only good news. Our beloved hero was shot point-blank in the chest by our still nameless shooter, resulting in some seriously nasty internal injuries. I won't go into specifics - you really don't want to know - but the crux of it is, he made it through surgery but doctors say he's probably not gonna last the night. We've brought in a medical expert, Dr Swan, to give us the low down. Dr Swan, welcome."_

_"Thank you for having me."_

_"So, not very good odds for Fullmetal. Are the doctors right? Or are we allowed to hope?"_

_"Well you're always allowed to hope, but from the information you've given me here, I'd have to concur with the other doctors. Between the internal damage and the blood loss, it's unlikely his body's getting enough oxygen to survive - that's the real reason the odds are so low, even though they've managed to stop the bleeding and patched up his insides. If the body's deprived of oxygen for too long..."  
_

* * *

_**CENTRAL DAILY**  
' **WE WERE HELD WITH NO INFORMATION’** _

_It appears it wasn't just the public who were denied information yesterday._

_Interviews with soldiers about their experience all reported the same thing - they didn't know what had happened, what was happening or would be happening._

_"I only knew something was wrong when I heard the announcement for the lock-down," one warrant officer who wished to remain nameless said. "But it wasn't until almost half an hour after the lock down we were given some kind of direction, which was 'go to the canteen and wait'."_

_"It was ridiculous," a sergeant also wishing to remain nameless agreed. "Everyone you spoke to seemed to have conflicting information, and none of the commanding officers seemed to have a clue either. We were left abandoned to wait, and the first thing we heard after was that the lock down had been lifted - but we still hadn't known what had caused it in the first place!"_

_The comments are a far cry from the Fuhrer's statement yesterday, which praised the military's 'efficiency', and are yet another way the Fuhrer seems to be struggling under the expections of Fuhrer Bradley's regime. Cont. on page 3.  
_

* * *

_ **Capital Heart FM** _  
_**09:45**_  
_"... and in case you missed it earlier, we'll repeat again - it seems the former Fullmetal Alchemist has defied the odds and survived the night. We've yet to receive word beyond that, but after our interview with Dr Swan, we've got our hopes up he'll make a full recovery. People have already started leaving flowers outside the hospital in support of our hero, and if you have any stories you'd like to share, please ring in..."_

* * *

_**CENTRAL EVENING NEWS  
FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST’S FAMILY RELEASES STATEMENT ** _

_Earlier today there was yet another shock, as none other than the 'Rebel of Central', Brigadier General Mustang, released a statement on behalf of the family of the former Fullmetal Alchemist, nearly two days after the initial shooting._

_In the statement, his brother showed his appreciation for the tributes and suggested 'if you really want to help, please donate some money to the hospitals so they can provide better care for everyone, including Ed.' The statement finished with a request for privacy 'during this difficult time'._

_Not much information can be found on one Alphonse Elric, 15, though speaking to members of the military has revealed wherever the Fullmetal Alchemist was, his brother was sure to follow. Many soldiers reported the brother always wore a suit of armour which, in addition to their young ages, always made the brothers stand out wherever they went. However, one thing of note is that aside from the curiosity of the armour, there was never a negative word against Alphonse - a sharp contrast to Edward who, whilst beloved by most, has also been dogged by numerous criticisms._

_The Brigadier General remained afterwards for a few minutes to answer questions, however aside from confirming that Major Hawkeye would make a full recovery, no new information was learnt - even when pressed on whether the shooting was related to him, he just repeated the investigation was still on-going._

_Stay tuned to our radio programme for more up-to-date information on these events._

* * *

Roy looked at the pile of paperwork on his desk and sighed.

His normal paperwork had grown to horrifying levels and on top of it all rested the results of the past four days of meetings and damage control of the media.

He dropped his pen, stretched and winced when his back cracked in several places, before glancing at the clock – 8:25am. He’d been there for two hours already, but it felt like forever. Perhaps Hawkeye would let him take a break some- except, he remembered and froze mid-back scratch, she wasn’t there to ask permission of. Her absence was in fact the whole reason he’d come in so early. He sighed again and glanced longingly at his office door.

Was it too early to visit the infirmary?

While he was psyching himself up to return to his paperwork (because she would know just by looking at him whether he’d done it), the phone rang and made him jump.

“Mustang,” he answered cheerfully, appreciating the legitimate excuse to put off the paperwork a little longer.

“Sir?”

Roy spun around in his chair to look out the window and fiddled with a pen as he said, “Major, do we need to have words about what ‘rest’ means again?”

He’d been livid upon reaching the infirmary and discovering her ‘graze’ had clipped an artery. If it wasn’t for needing to remain calm for Alphonse and Miss Rockbell, he’d have damned the consequences and made the private pay. Two subordinates had nearly died because of him; whatever the reason, he would never forgive that.

“No sir,” Hawkeye replied, sounding a little resigned, “but you did want to know when Edward woke up.”

“Are you saying-?” he jerked in surprise and the pen fell to the floor, forgotten.

“Yes sir,” she interrupted. He sank back in his chair in relief, then tensed as he remembered the doctors’ warnings about brain damage.

“… How is he?”

To her credit, she immediately understood. “If there is any… damage, it’s not immediately visible. He’s his usual self, so far.” There was amusement in her tone and Roy thought about it.

“Did he wake up cursing?”

“There may have been words to that effect.” The smile in her voice made him smile too.

“Then he will be fine,” Roy said. “It seems fortuitous now you’re getting your _very important rest_ in the best place to keep me informed. Let me know if anything changes.”

“Yes sir.”

He hung up and stared out the window without seeing anything. He felt lighter and, for the first time in what felt like forever, his head wasn’t pounding. One hand gripped the armrest tightly as he let the knowledge Fullmetal would make it – would be _okay_ – sink in. Eventually, he took a deep breath, shook himself and spun his chair back to his desk and the piles of paperwork with a renewed sense of purpose. Now that Fullmetal was awake, he’d have questions. Roy wanted to give him answers.

Moments after he’d reached out for the top piece, Breda knocked on his door.

“What is it?” Roy asked, determinedly finishing his motion and dropping the paper in front of him, before glancing over at the other man.

“I found it sir,” Breda said as he held a file up and Roy spotted the stamp of a personnel document. His eyes widened.

“Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the sofa in front of his desk, and Breda obeyed. “How did it take four days?”

“Records were a mess, sir, I was told-”

“Records have always been a mess,” Roy interrupted. “They’re unfortunate enough to have more paperwork than I am, but it’s never taken four _days_ to get a personnel file before. One, perhaps.”

“Sir, when I questioned the same, the warrant officer on duty admitted record keeping has been low priority since _that_ day,” Breda explained. “As the focus has been filling up the holes as fast as possible, all new recruits were accepted immediately and things like filling in the proper paperwork only slowed that down. They were told it would follow eventually, but it rarely was.”

Roy stared and resisted a shudder. The implications of that were terrifying. “Who ordered that?”

Breda grimaced and Roy knew he wouldn’t like the answer. “The Fuhrer himself, though Brigadier General Garland was the one who passed on the orders.”

Shaking his head, he took another look at the file in Breda’s hands and noticed how thin it was. Even new privates had a relatively thick file, covering things like a background medical check, mental health assessment, academy scores, noteworthy comments, their financial situation, etc, but the file Breda held looked as if it barely had half of that.

Hadn’t he wondered how the private had passed the mental health assessment? If it had never been done…

“Pass me that,” he said, feeling his headache return at the possible shitstorm he was about to reveal. Breda did so, and Roy skimmed through the information available, noted with resignation the missing mental health assessment, before checking the rest. The private’s finances and comments from academy instructors were also missing. He looked back at Breda. “This was all you could find?”

“None of it arrived at the same time sir,” Breda said. “That’s why it took so long. It’s possible more will turn up, but…”

Roy pressed a palm to his temple and decided to deal with that can of worms later. He looked back down at the file again, this time keeping the situation with Fullmetal in mind, and re-read the information. The private’s full name was Henry Isaac Wilkins, he was originally from Youswell and, upon joining the military, he’d moved into the barracks. There was no previous address. In hasty chicken scratch, under family someone had written ‘deceased’ which neither helped nor hurt the private’s story.

“There’s nothing here to indicate why,” Roy muttered, placing the folder on his desk before he creased it in his frustration.

“Sir, if the private was from Youswell, shouldn’t he have loved Fullmetal like the rest of them?” Breda asked. “Maybe something else happened during their time there. I bet Alphonse could tell you more.”

Roy cast one look at the lone paper which had made it onto his desk earlier, and then gave Breda a blinding smile. “Excellent idea. Why don’t we go now? I have it on good authority we might even get a chance to speak with Fullmetal.” Breda did a double-take, Roy nodded to answer the man’s silent question, and then Breda grinned widely.

“That’s fantastic!” he turned back to the main office and shouted, “He’s awake!” Havoc and Fuery’s pleased responses brought back Roy’s own smile, though he hid it as he walked past his subordinates and headed to the infirmary.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t speak to Fullmetal.

He’d only been awake for a few minutes before going back to sleep, but, judging by how much lighter the shadows on Miss Rockbell and Alphonse’s faces were, it had been enough. The doctors were also cautiously optimistic even as they pointed out Fullmetal would likely never regain his former fitness.

The bullet had cracked his sternum, diverted down through his diaphragm and somehow managed to avoid his spine upon exiting. However, between the hole in his diaphragm and the bruising to his heart and lungs, Fullmetal’s breathing was literally shot to hell. He would recover and live a relatively normal life, with time and patience, so long as he didn’t do anything too strenuous or put pressure on his heart and lungs.

Roy didn’t envy the task Alphonse and Miss Rockbell had ahead of them.

Alphonse had helpfully recapped their trip to Youswell, however (including how they’d tricked the lieutenant on duty into signing over the deed, which they’d hidden before, and Roy refused to dwell on because he wouldn’t let Fullmetal turn him grey before forty). He hadn’t recognised the private’s name but had given one back – a Mr Halling of Youswell Inn.

Upon returning to his office, Roy retrieved his fallen pen, found some paper and then started navigating the switchboards and jumping through the hoops to finally reach the tiny inn in the back and beyond. Absently, he wondered if the piles of paper had multiplied in his absence.

“Youswell Inn, how can I help?” a woman answered.

“Good morning,” he said in his best schmoozing voice that made all the ladies swoon. “I’m looking for a Mr Halling?”

“And you are…?”

“Roy Mustang,” he said, holding off his title because Alphonse had said they hated the military. “I worked with Full – Edward Elric, and I need to ask Mr Halling a few questions.”

“You’re that flame alchemist,” the woman sounded disgusted and Roy winced a little. Perhaps it had been too much to hope they wouldn’t recognise his name.

“I am,” he said. She sighed.

“I’ll pass you on, if you tell me how that boy and his brother is. We’ve been worried sick, and the papers have been useless, just going on about the Fuhrer and yourself!”

Roy hesitated, but her concern seemed genuine, so he admitted, “He’s recovering. It’ll be long, but he’ll make it. His brother’s with him now.”

Thinking about it, now Fullmetal had woken and was starting to stabilise, he would probably be transferred to Central Hospital. The surgeons on base specialised in treating bullet wounds, had likely done a better job than a surgeon in Central, but the facilities weren’t conducive to the long-term care Fullmetal now needed.

“That’s… good to hear,” she said. “I’ll fetch my husband for you now.”

It wasn’t long before a rough male voice said, “This is Halling.”

“Mr Halling. I’ve heard good things about you from Alphonse,” Roy said. “I’m hoping you can help me now.”

“Huh. I’ve heard things about you too,” Halling replied, his tone dubious, and Roy was torn between irritation at a younger Fullmetal for making his life harder, and amusement from the memories of baiting Fullmetal into a rage (a sure-fire way to add entertainment to otherwise dull days).

“I’m aware, but I have some questions concerning recent events and Alphonse assured me you’ll be happy to answer if it means helping F-Edward.”

Halling made a noise in agreement. “Yeah, anything for them kids. We owe ‘em more than we could ever repay.” Roy leaned back in his chair and wondered, as he gazed at the ceiling, if he’d always be surprised by the devotion Fullmetal somehow inspired.

“Do you know of a Henry Wilkins?”

“Henry Wilkins… Henry…” Halling hummed and then his wife said something, too low for Roy to catch, which made him go, “Oh, little Harry! With a brother called Tommy?”

That was a promising start.

“I’m afraid our records don’t have the name of his brother,” Roy said. “Could you describe him?”

“Well, Harry’d be what, 19 now? Tall, dark and curly-haired? Rosy cheeks?” Halling chortled while Roy recalled the office meeting with the private. Tall and dark-haired he could see, and the age checked out, but rosy cheeked? It was hard to imagine the pale, trembling soldier as cherubic. “And Tommy’s got the same hair colour, though he used to keep it longer…”

“When was the last time you saw them?”

“A year ago, maybe?” Halling paused again as his wife said something and then continued, “Yeah, Harry took him and his younger brother to Central, said he wanted to make a name for himself.”

Roy raised his eyebrows and decided to test the private’s story. “Their parents didn’t stop them?”

“Ah, well…” Halling sighed. “Their father died in a mining accident when they were young, and the mother followed not long after of a broken heart. They’ve been all each other had since.” Roy grimaced at the all-too-common story but noted the details down anyway. “But little Harry didn’t want to mine after that – can’t really blame the kid, when he was the one who…”

“Was he there when the Elrics visited?” Roy asked.

“Yeah. Ed’s what made him go to Central, I’d say,” Halling pondered. “After Ed left, all Harry ever talked about was ‘if that kid could do all that, what could we do’?”

Roy frowned at his notes. “You’re saying Wilkins thought favourably of Fullmetal?”

“Ful-? Oh, Ed. Yeah, he claimed Ed was his inspiration.”

Well, that put a wrench in things.

In the privacy of his office, Roy could afford to slump forward and rest his elbows on his desk, propping himself up with one arm while he kept the phone to his ear. It didn’t make sense for Wilkins to have admired Ed enough to move cities, then turn around and shoot him. Had the death of his brother ‘Tommy’ changed him that much?

“Thank you, you’ve been very helpful,” he said, careful to keep his frustration out of his tone. He spent a few more minutes chatting, then hung up and started to sketch out a timeline.

According to Halling, Wilkins and his brother had left for Central early autumn. Fullmetal had been in Central then, but not long after he’d gone up to Briggs and then fallen off the grid for nearly five months, before magically re-appearing underground on the Promised Day. After that, Fullmetal had gone back to Resembool with Alphonse. A quick check revealed Wilkins had enlisted just a few days after the Promised Day.

He stared at the blank months which overlapped between the pair. If what the private had said was true – and that was a big if – it likely happened then and, once again, he wondered how Fullmetal had managed to avoid his information network for so long.

The next step would be to ask Fullmetal exactly what he’d got up to during that time, and to send one of his team to question the other soldiers in the dorm where Wilkins had been staying.

He re-opened the folder Breda had given, took note of the address and was about to call for one of them when there was a knock on his door.

“Sir?” Fuery said. “There’s a, uh… Mr Hillard who wants to talk, he says he’s the headmaster of the university?”

Roy stared at Fuery, who shrugged back. Why would – _oh_.

“Transfer him through,” Roy ordered and then held up the file. “I need Havoc to go to the dorms and question those who lived with that private.” Fuery nodded and took the file, though he shot a puzzled look over his shoulder as he went back to the office, and a few seconds later Roy’s phone rang.

“Brigadier General Mustang.”

“Ah, yes, I truly hope so,” came a rather posh voice. “I’ve been put through so many people, you know, you’re a hard man to get in touch with Mr Mustang.”

“Brigadier,” Roy corrected without thinking and there was a pause.

“Brigadier, I do apologise. I trust your, ah, secretary told you who I was?”

“My subordinate, yes. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Headmaster Hillard,” Roy said. He’d heard of the man, of course, though the military and academics usually avoided social circles. Bradley hadn’t considered education a priority, unsurprisingly.

“And yours. I was hoping to have a word with you about two of your former charges.”

Roy blinked. “If you’re talking about Edward and Alphonse then yes, I was their commanding officer.”

“Which means they were your responsibility, doesn’t it?” Hillard pressed. “They were in your care?”

“Well that’s – I suppose,” Roy agreed and wondered why his stomach was twisting uncomfortably.

“And from the newspapers, it seems they’re in your care again, no?” Hillard continued. “Dreadful news, terribly shocking, on the very day I’d seen them too! I’m sure you’re busy with the investigation so I won’t keep you, but I wonder – well, maybe young Edward didn’t mention it -”

“I’m aware of your request,” Roy interrupted. Perhaps he shouldn’t have but thinking about Fullmetal in his office meant thinking about what came after. “Truthfully, I’m confused why you’re hesitating in accepting them.”

“Them? Oh, no, this is just for the younger, Alphonse -”

“Which is also confusing,” Roy latched on, as an idea struck him, and he leant forward on the desk. He stared ahead at the wall, but his mind raced with the best ways to play this. “You’re a well-educated man, very well-informed, so you must realise the publicity your university will get if the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother were to attend.”

Hillard coughed. “Well, of course, but -”

“I imagine a lot more people would be motivated to enrol, knowing they were following in his footsteps.” The reminder of what Wilkins had apparently been doing soured some of his satisfaction a little, but he persevered. “Fullmetal has always had a talent for inspiring others.”

“I suppose that’s true, yes, but the request -” Hillard sounded flustered. Roy smirked. “We only discussed the youngest, so I believed young Edward didn’t want to.”

“This is only hypothetical of course but, if it were me, I’d probably be put off by how hesitant you were to accommodate my brother,” he mused aloud. “Of course, someone of your position has a lot to consider.”

“… We cannot offer _two_ medical scholarships,” Hillard said after a long pause, sounding put-out. “Without any guarantee of what came after -”

“Let me tell you something,” Roy said. “Those two boys learnt alchemy when they were five and four respectively. What other children have you heard doing that?” he paused. Hillard remained silent. “Those same geniuses took that intelligence and a frankly astonishing sense of right and wrong, and applied that to the world around them, eventually playing a crucial role in the events last spring. I do not exaggerate when I say that, without their assistance, none of us would be here.”

“That still -”

“Whatever those boys plan to do in the future, they will change the world.” Roy continued over Hillard’s spluttering. “That is my guarantee to you. The only question you have to answer is, do you want to be the one who provided the opportunity or the one who got in their way?”

The silence was almost painful, but Roy forced himself not to press. Instead he drummed his fingers on his desk lightly enough to not be heard.

“I will grant young Alphonse the scholarship,” Hillard finally said.

“And Fu-Edward?”

“If he so wishes, he will also receive a scholarship for whichever major he chooses.”

“Even to study medicine, like his brother?”

Hillard sighed. “... Yes."

Roy straightened, his smirk widening as he almost purred, “It seems we’re finally on the same page. I’m glad I wasn’t proven wrong about you. Of course, you understand this offer must be open, given recent events.”

“Yes, they will have all the time they need. Well, it has been very… interesting to speak with you, Brigadier Mustang,” Hillard said in what Roy was sure was a fake pleasant tone. “We will speak again, I’m sure, should there be any more concerns.”

“You have my number,” Roy acknowledged and Hillard ‘hmm’ed, then hung up.

Roy sighed as he put his own phone down. He’d completely forgotten about the situation with the university in all the chaos, so it was a good thing the headmaster had rung. He was certain it was also the furthest thing from Alphonse and Fullmetal’s minds as well, but at least it would be one less thing for them to worry about when they finally did reconsider it.

He stood up and stretched, feeling stiff from sitting at his desk so much, and eyed the paperwork with resignation again. He’d barely touched it since that morning, but he’d done all the tasks he could think of to put it off.

“Sir?” he turned to the door and saw Fuery again. “The Fuhrer wants a word.”

Roy glanced between Fuery and his paperwork, before shrugging and gleefully settling back next to the phone.

If the Fuhrer wanted a word, who was he to delay for mere paperwork?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I'm so pleased this chapter's done. Seriously, it was tough. Good thing Mustang's on the job - you'd think it'd be Hawkeye getting shit done, but the man was all over Hughes, and I'd bet the fact they survived wouldn't put him off doing the same for Hawkeye and Ed. 
> 
> Next chapter: We return to Ed, Al, Winry and Granny, as they deal with the repercussions of the events. Dramarama all around.


	4. Chapter 4

“Please, brother.”

Ed scowled at the tray his brother was holding. “I already told you, I'm not -”

“But you are!” Al huffed. “Just because you don’t feel it doesn’t mean you don’t need it – didn’t you tell me that?”

"That was different," he argued. "You'd forgotten all that shit and didn't know better, but I do and - hey!" Al had dumped the tray on his legs despite his protests. "You're not even listening, are you?"

"I am, I'm just not obeying," Al said. "Because you need to eat, even though it hurts - oh don't look at me like that, I _know_ you're trying to pretend it's not as painful as it is you dummy -" Ed crossed his arms over his chest and scowled harder, then regretted it as his arms brushed over his stitches and restarted the throbbing.

"You know, _good_ little brothers don't call their older brothers dummies," he pointed out.

"If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck -"

"Ahem."

The brothers turned to look at the door. Major Hawkeye was standing just inside the room, leaning on a crutch, and Al immediately jumped up from the chair.

"Major! Do you want to sit?"

"No, thank you. I won't be long," she smiled as she limped forward. "It's good to see you awake longer than a few minutes, Ed." Ed felt his cheeks heat up at the warm look she gave him, unused to seeing such obvious emotion on her face. "I just came by to say goodbye - I'm being discharged," she added when she saw their confused looks. Ed couldn't help glancing down at her leg, but he didn't see any sign of her injury beneath the military trousers.

"Sorry," he said quietly, looking back at her face and seeing how worn out she was just by walking from the infirmary outside to his room.

She shook her head. "You have nothing to apologise for. We should apologise to you - someone like him should never have been allowed to join the military."

"But, if I hadn't come -"

"He likely would have snapped over something else and injured more people," she interrupted. "It wasn't your fault. I know it's not much, given what happened..." she trailed off and her eyes flickered down to his chest, which was covered in bandages. "... but you must believe that, if nothing else." Ed glanced away and shrugged, then winced at the pinch in his chest.

"What's gonna happen now?" Al asked.

"The Brigadier is going to investigate further," she said. "Given the public spectacle this has become, he'll have to pursue every angle - so he'll come ask you questions at some point."

"But... he doesn't think brother actually did it, does he?" Ed's chest tightened at the worry in Al's voice and he tried to swallow, only to discover a lump had suddenly appeared. Would Mustang actually believe the private's claim? He'd have thought not, but then Mustang hadn't been all that welcoming when Ed had last seen him... He jumped when the mattress shifted and snapped his head up to Hawkeye, who had settled on the side of the bed. Her expression had softened again, this time into worry, and he found he couldn't hold her gaze.

"No one who knows you would, especially the Brigadier," she said with such certainty that Ed's body had relaxed before he'd really registered it.

"Thanks," he said roughly and coughed, feeling like something was stuck in his throat, then spent the next minute riding out the stabbing pain his cough had ignited. He'd only been awake and aware for a day, but he was already sick of how limiting his injury was. "M'fine," he waved off their concern by changing the subject. "So you going home, or...?"

"Yes, to rest. They won't let me return to work for at least a week," she frowned.

"What about Ishval?" Al asked. Ed started; he'd forgotten all about that.

"Ah..." Hawkeye grimaced. "The Fuhrer has graciously delayed deployment for another month, to allow time for my recovery, this investigation and the preparation."

"Huh. Fifty cenz the bastard'll have drowned in paperwork by the weekend," Ed said to Al. That was five days away.

"By Thursday," Al challenged and Ed grinned.

"And people say you're the nice one," he said and glanced at Hawkeye whose grimace had been replaced by an amused smile. "You'll be my witness, yeah? I actually gave the bastard the benefit of the doubt."

"Perhaps I should make sure there aren't any pigs flying," she said dryly. Al laughed, Ed tried to and it felt like his chest was splitting open.

"Fuck," he rasped, when his vision was no longer white and starry, and he turned his head to look at Al. "Don't let me laugh again, okay?"

Al's eyes were bright and his voice cracked as he said, "Yeah, okay."

"I'll leave you to rest," Hawkeye said, keeping her voice soft, and as feelings other than pain returned Ed realised her hand was squeezing his arm gently. "It truly is good to see you up." She let go and stood up. This time, Ed caught a tiny wince before it was hidden behind her usual calm and, his own pain fresh in his mind, he asked,

"How're you getting home?"

She blinked and said, "You should worry about other things than me," as her eyes flickered to Al. Ed nodded, but didn't look away and eventually she added, "There's a car waiting for me."

"Good."

"I'll come visit again, perhaps when you've moved to Central Hospital," she said. Ed and Al both grimaced at the reminder they'd be going back there _again_. She turned and started to limp out the room.

Just before she reached the door, Ed called out, "Hey, thanks for getting him." She paused, glanced over her shoulder and nodded, before continuing out the room.

"I hope she'll be okay," Al said quietly.

"Me too," Ed agreed and they shared a concerned look before Al finally sighed and glanced down at the still untouched tray of food.

"Look, you don't have to eat all of it, okay? Just a few bites."

Ed would've argued, but Al's eyes were still bright from before, so he just picked up the damn spoon, dumped it in the soup and then shoved it in his mouth. He repeated that a few times before pushing at the tray, to tell Al he was done, but his brother just stared pointedly at the glass of water Ed hadn’t touched. If sighing didn’t bring a world of agony, he would’ve sighed hard to express just how put-upon he was. Instead, he just grabbed the water and started to down it.

“No!” Al lunged forward and ripped the glass away, accidentally spilling some water over the bed and floor in doing so. “Ed!”

“What?!"

"Argh!" Al threw his hands up in the air - as much as he could when he held a glass of water. "You're hopeless! You were just complaining about how it made you sick, then you go and do the one thing which guarantees it! What did the doctors tell you to do?"

Ed glanced away and muttered, "Slow and small."

"Slow and small," his brother repeated, "so _why_ did you suddenly forget that?" There was no reason Ed could give that didn't sound stupid and Al knew it, if the way he accepted Ed's silence was any indication. "Why must you always make things harder on yourself?" he said quieter, almost to himself.

Looking back at Al showed Ed what he'd missed before; there were lines he didn't remember on Al's face, dark circles under his eyes, and he had lost some of that sun-kissed look that Resembool gave them. Instead, he'd slumped back on the chair, as if all the energy had been drained out of him, and his lips were pressed so tightly together they'd turned white.

It made Ed feel incredibly guilty.

"Give it here then," he took the glass from Al and slowly sipped until all the water was gone, then Al took it and the tray away. Unfortunately, that hadn't seemed to make Al feel better and Ed wracked his brain for another way to do so. Eventually, he said, "Told you you'd be good at this." Al finally looked up with a tiny frown so Ed added, "Dealing with shitty patients."

Al laughed, but this one was more bitter than earlier. "I didn't need you to prove that, brother."

"Well, I didn't intend to," Ed pointed out. "S'not like it's my fault this -"

"It's never your fault," Al muttered and then a hand clapped over his mouth as his eyes went wide.

Ed stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, fear and indignation warring for dominance and making his voice weak.

"It's nothing."

"It's not _nothing -_ you think I wanted this shit?"

"Brother, no!" Al leant forward and grabbed one of Ed's hands. "Of course not, but -" he hesitated, but when Ed just stared at him, continued, "You've upset a lot of people, and I wish I were more surprised this happened but I'm - I'm not, and _that's_ what hurts Ed, that it's - that some part of me expected this, somehow."

Was his heart always this loud?

"Al... you're saying I deserved this?" Ed struggled to get the words out and was relieved when horror flashed across his brother's face.

" _No_ ," he said emphatically, "but I keep thinking about - what the Brigadier told us, you know? And then I think about that moment, in the office -" he swallowed, his grip tightening on Ed's hands enough to make it sting as his breathing sped up, "- and I was kneeling in your blood, and it - oh god," he gasped and looked down at their linked hands, eyes going far away, "It was so hot and - and it smelled, and _-_ " he started to hyperventilate.

Ed swore and glanced around for a paper bag or something, but there was nothing. "Al!" he snapped his fingers in front of Al's face, but it didn't help, so he tried to remember what hyperventilating was. Wasn't it thinking you didn't have enough air - oxygen - but actually had too much? Which meant he needed carbon dioxide, so maybe... He leaned forward, the doctor's request to not do anything to rip his stitches be damned, and clapped one hand on Al's shoulder to steady himself, then the other over Al's mouth and nose.

Al struggled a little at first, but Ed was determined. After about ten seconds he let go and Al gasped and doubled over, but it sounded more natural than before. When Al straightened up a little Ed did it again, which seemed to help calm Al even more.

"What happened?" he asked when Al's breathing had almost returned to normal.

His brother swallowed audibly. "I - before, in the armour, I'd never... you've been hurt so often, but I never felt it like that."

Oh.

"I didn't think," Ed rasped, wondering when knives had gotten stuck in his throat.

"I didn't either," Al admitted and wrapped his arms around himself as he shuddered. "But, brother... why _does_ that private think you..."

"Killed his brother?"

"... Yeah."

"I dunno. It's not like I've - I've never killed anyone, Al, you believe me right?" Al was quiet a little too long for Ed to be reassured. "Al?"

"It's not that I think you did," his brother finally admitted, unable to meet Ed's eyes. "But you spent a lot of time with Greed, and I thought - I know he was different to the others, but not _that_ different, and I can't help wondering if maybe..." Ed felt an incredulous laugh trying to burst out and had to bite his tongue to hold it back, so he wouldn't collapse in pain again. "I-it's - you've been so reluctant to speak about that time, and you've always avoiding talking about that massive scar, and I didn't - I knew you were ashamed of something, but I didn't really think anything of it, until..."

Ed's mouth had gone dry. "Just spit it out already, Al."

Al took a deep breath. "Are you... did something happen, when you were hiding with Greed? Did he do it?"

Although he'd been expecting it, it still hurt like a bitch to hear it.

"No." He said, hardly recognising his voice. "I'm tired. I'm think I'm going to rest now."

"Brother?"

For once, he found he didn't want to speak to Al - didn't think he could, not without saying something he'd regret. He sank back into his pillows and shut his eyes, ignoring Al repeating his name, as he tried to breathe around an entirely new and unexpected pain.

Al hadn't believed him - or at least, not enough to keep the doubts at bay.

Ed tried to rationalise it. Al had only seen the worst of Greed. Ed had only told him the barest information about the time they were separated, he'd kept it all secret from his family, but even so... how could Al think his reluctance to speak was because he was hiding something like murder?

Did Winry think it too?

Despite his turmoil, he actually did wind up dozing off after awhile, though he didn't realise until he next opened his eyes and the room had started to darken. Al was gone - the first time Ed could remember - and instead, there was...

"Granny?"

"Ah, you're awake," she said, looking up from her book and pushing her glasses back up her nose.

"What're you doing here?"

She raised an eyebrow and then pointedly looked at his bandaged chest. "What do you think?" she asked.

Ed licked his lips. "I just - you never came before, so I don't... I was just surprised..."

"Perhaps I just never heard about it on the radio before," she said. Ed winced. He'd heard the events had been announced before the military could step in and control it, but also suspected that it couldn't have been hidden anyway. Too many people had seen him carried through the corridors. Havoc and Breda had also brought some newspapers by, so he knew what the public knew, but he hadn't given any thought to how it would make the people who cared about him feel.

"That's fair," he finally said and looked at her through his bands. "It's not - it wasn't my fault this time, you know? Al -" he broke off, unable to say it. The hurt had swallowed his voice. She studied him long enough that he felt uncomfortable and then, to his surprise, she just turned and reached for another fucking tray on the side.

"I'm told you haven't been eating," she said.

"I have!" he argued and winced at the flare of pain.

"Let me rephrase. I'm told you've been acting like a baby." She put the tray on his lap and settled back on the chair.

"It -" he swallowed and looked down at the tray. "Look, it doesn't matter if I eat small shitty bites or a lot, it always makes me feel like I'm gonna explode and I fucking hate it." He blinked when she made an understanding noise and patted his knee, and instinctively tensed at the unusual show of compassion.

"Does the food also stick in your throat?"

His eyes widened. "How did you -?" He hadn't mentioned that to anyone.

"It happens often after your kind of surgery," she said. "It's because of the swelling."

"Can I do anything?"

"Yes," she said. "Eat. You'll heal quicker."

He should've seen that coming.

Ed reluctantly started dinner, while Granny seemingly went back to her book, and after a few minutes Ed gave up and pushed away the tray. Granny put it aside and then peered at him over her spectacles but didn't say anything. Eventually, he felt obliged to break the silence and her stare.

"Where's Al and Winry?"

"Out. They'll be back in a few hours." He relaxed knowing he wouldn't have to face Al for a while, then immediately felt guilty for doing so. "I felt you all needed some space, after what Alphonse told us about your conversation," she pursed her lips.

Strange, it almost sounded like...

"You don't think I had something to do with it?" he asked, not realising how much he needed to hear her say it until then.

"Hardly," she snorted, and Ed's shoulders slumped in relief. "That's not to say it's not suspicious," she added and leant forward, "But I can only think of two reasons why you wouldn't tell even Alphonse. Either you don't want to worry him, or you're ashamed and don't want him to know." Ed couldn't quite stop a flinch, and she said, "I thought so. What did you do, Ed?"

"... It's not what you think," he said hollowly. He supposed if he could tell anyone, it would be Granny. "You can't tell Al, or Winry. They'd only blame themselves."

"You don't wish to keep it secret from the Brigadier?" 

Ed shrugged and looked at his lap. "If he's gonna be asking questions... it'll come out anyway, but he's not gonna - I mean, it's not gonna bother him the same way." Mustang probably wouldn't care at all, given his reception the other day.

"Very well," she agreed, so he told her the whole story.

She'd already heard up to their split in the north, first Winry leaving with Scar, then Al following, and then Ed had always diverted their attention to what Al and Winry had got up to since then. This time, he told her of the fight with Kimblee, the argument for life over death, falling down the mineshaft, and then waking up impaled. She didn't say anything then, just pulled out her pipe and started smoking, and Ed wondered if the doctors would complain. She only spoke when he explained how he'd stopped the bleeding.

"What does that mean, using your life force?" she asked with narrowed eyes, knowledgeable enough about alchemy to know it wasn't good.

"It... look, I dunno how much it took, but I'm not... well, I'm not gonna grow old, probably," he admitted. "So... that's why you can't tell 'em, because they'd think it was their fault or some shit - and Al, he'd _hate_ himself, 'cause he'd think if he'd been there, he could've..."

"Ah, I think I understand now." she said slowly and shot him a look he couldn't decipher. After a moment she added, "Those months you were silent, you were recovering?"

"Mostly, yeah," Ed admitted. "Those two chimeras - they found a doctor to fix me up and put us up 'till I could move again."

"Mostly?"

Remembering what had happened after brought heat to his cheeks, and he stuttered, "W-well, I told you, after that we joined up with Greedling and stayed with 'im 'till the Promised Day, and then you know. And anyone I was with - Ling, those two chimeras, they'd tell you we didn't kill anyone."

"Then why are you embarrassed?"

"I'm not embarrassed!" he denied even as he felt the heat spread all over his face. "It's - pain, from the memory, y'know?" She raised an eyebrow, telling him she wasn't convinced, but before she could speak there was a sudden commotion in the main infirmary ward. They shared a puzzled look but didn't have to wait long to find out what had happened.

Someone knocked on the door, then opened it without waiting for a reply. Two first lieutenants entered the room and scoped it out, before one turned and nodded to someone outside. Ed started when the Fuhrer walked in and tried to tell his racing, twinging heart to chill the fuck out because Grumman was different to Bradley, had to be if he'd supported Mustang and vice versa, but it was still difficult to relax when he knew how helpless he was if anything happened. Fuck, he didn't even have his alchemy this time if anything were to go down.

"Fuhrer Grumman," Granny said with her best unimpressed tone while her pipe rested on her lap.

"Ah, you must be Pinako Rockbell," Grumman said and, to Ed's surprise, gave her a respectful nod as he walked to the end of Ed's bed. "Your work precedes you."

"If only your reputation did the same."

Ed snorted before he could stop himself and then the resulting stabbing pain made him groan. Once it had dulled, he glanced at Granny through slightly blurry vision and affection swelled up as he remembered he had something better than alchemy.

"Considering everything, that is not undeserved," Grumman admitted and looked at Ed. "It is good to see you looking so well, Major."

"Uh..." Ed started in surprise. "I quit, or did the bastard forget to fill out that form?"

"Ed," Granny said with a note of warning. Ed pulled a face back - it wasn't like what he called Mustang was a secret.

Grumman blinked once, then said, "Ah, I'd heard you have a rather unique name for Brigadier Mustang," and Ed grinned as he realised Grumman didn't sound disapproving. Maybe he was alright after all. "Would you prefer Mr Elric?"

"Ed's fine."

"Edward, then," Grumman compromised and Ed shrugged. It didn't matter to him at all. "How is your recovery going?"

"... S'alright," Ed said and floundered for something else he felt comfortable saying when it seemed Grumman expected more. "Keep falling asleep in conversations, that pisses me off."

"Ah, you should treasure those moments though," Grumman let out an apparent longing sigh. "You'll miss that when you recover, and everyone expects you to stay awake." To that, Ed stayed quiet and studied the Fuhrer, for the first time acknowledging how old he was. The man likely didn't have many years left as Fuhrer in him, so what did that mean for whoever came next? And did that mean he genuinely wished he could sleep during meetings, or was he just joking?

Not for the first time, Ed hated Bradley for making him distrust men in power and their smiling faces.

"It's not common for the Fuhrer to visit a civilian in hospital," Granny broke the silence.

"Well, it's not common for one to be shot on a military base either," Grumman said, "and I'm truly sorry that was allowed to happen."

"And how did it?" Granny took a relaxed puff off her pipe. "We've heard the Brigadier's discoveries. If you hadn't ignored -" and the Fuhrer cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable for the first time in their conversation, and she fell silent but stared expectantly.

"The fault is entirely mine," he said. Ed barely managed to stop his jaw dropping and a glance at Granny showed, by her raised eyebrows, she was just as surprised. "In the wake of last Spring, we lost many good men at a time when we needed them more than ever. In my haste to fill those gaps, important checks were ignored. I promise you, I will not make that mistake again." And then, surprising them even more, he gave a tiny, apologetic bow slash head-bob.

He genuinely seemed regretful. Ed hadn't really been pissed at him before, hadn't given much thought to the military's responsibility for it all yet, but he realised with annoyance he couldn't be mad at Grumman either, because he remembered the statistics.

Over 40% of troops in Central had been wiped out, and another 12% discharged due to injury - all by the Briggs soldiers. At the time he'd been too focused on the Briggs part - and even now, it left such a sour taste in his mouth he didn't think he could ever go back there - but if he thought about it more, just losing that amount would've screwed anybody over and then, on top of that, losing the majority of brass, and dealing with the repercussions of the transmutation circle for the general public, and undoing over fifty years of damage left by Bradley...

It didn't make it right, but he could sort of understand how desperate Grumman must've been for new recruits.

"Why should we care about that?" Granny scoffed. "It doesn't help Ed now. The hospital bills alone are money we can't afford." Ed's eyes widened as he realised she was right, he'd have to pay for all this, but that money was supposed to be for Al, not -

"Then let me take a few of those worries from you," Grumman said and leant forward a little. "All medical fees during Edward's recovery, and any therapy necessary after, will be paid for by us, for however long is necessary. My only requirement is that he follows the doctors’ orders," and Ed narrowed his eyes, willing to bet Mustang had a hand in that last part, the utter cheapskate, and it made him want to run around screaming just to piss that bastard off.

Huh. Maybe Al had a point about Ed making things harder for himself.

"That's a start," Granny said, her tone meaning she thought it was totally okay, and added, "But his whole future's been affected. There'll be jobs he can't take, activities he can't do..."

"Apparently," Ed grumbled. Everyone kept saying the damage to his heart and lungs meant he'd have to take it easy from now on, but he didn't get it - well, he understood medically, but it hurt to do anything right now and it would've anyway because a bullet wound wasn't exactly a minor injury, nor was the surgery they'd performed after. Of course his movement would be limited until it healed.

How could they say it was permanent when they took all that into account?

"Edward," Granny replied, giving him another warning look, and he rolled his eyes but remained quiet. He'd prove them all wrong.

"I mentioned how much we needed good men earlier," Grumman said, politely not commenting on the exchange. "What the newspapers haven't reported is how far that extends. Reversing the majority of Bradley's regime takes time and with my focus on that, other aspects have fallen through the cracks."

"Like recruitment," Ed realised.

"Indeed. However, one significant part that has fallen - one that, even if I had time, I couldn't deal with as effectively as Bradley did - is the State Alchemist programme, and the four science labs." Both Ed and Granny straightened at that, because 'significant' was an understatement. They knew better than most the kind of things that went on in those labs and if that wasn't dealt with, it could spiral out of control very quickly. "I know you quit by choice, but I've also been told you're no longer capable of being a State Alchemist even if you wished to."

Ed eyed the Fuhrer suspiciously. "Yeah, I can't do alchemy anymore." Hopefully the sting would fade if he said it enough times.

"Do you still have the knowledge, or was that also lost?"

"... No, I still have it."

Grumman smiled. "As the former commander of Eastern Command, I had the advantage of seeing the results of your missions cross my desk. Amongst the reimbursement forms," and Ed noticed Grumman's lips twitched upwards for a moment, "the one thing that always stood out was your intelligence and ability to think on your feet. And it goes without saying, naturally, what made you the 'People's Hero' in the first place - your strong moral code. Given the reports from the battle last Spring, that has only improved with age."

Ed's stomach flipped as he realised he could see where this would end.

"You want me to do something with them," he said. "Like what, clean 'em up or some shit?"

"As intelligent as reported," Grumman held a glint of approval in his eyes. "'Clean up' is exactly what I want you to do. Though before you suggest it," he added when Granny opened her mouth, "this is in no way related to the medical care. Whether Edward takes this offer or not, the military will still take care of him." At that, Granny subsided and glanced at Ed, making clear the show was now his.

Ed looked at Grumman. "What - I mean, who's dealing with it now? Why's it not being sorted already?"

"Currently, the highest-ranking alchemist is Brigadier Mustang. However, I've needed him elsewhere and, as I'm sure you're aware, he wishes to be elsewhere."

"Ishval," Ed guessed.

"Yes," Grumman nodded. "In addition, the Brigadier has admitted his own knowledge is limited because he focused on his military career rather than alchemic, and implied that your knowledge - and that of your brother's - is far superior to his own when it comes to alchemy."

Ed stared. "You sure this is the same Mustang? 'Cause I can't see it."

Grumman's lips twitched again. "I may be rephrasing some of it. The point, Edward, is that in the wake of all these problems, I need the best person possible in every position. Everyone I've spoken to has suggested for this, it is you."

"Your options must be seriously limited," Ed muttered. How could he be the best choice?

"Why Ed?" Granny asked. "Surely it's not just his knowledge of alchemy?"

"It isn't," Grumman shook his head. "I've lost track of the number of complaints I've received regarding your... attitude towards members of the military." Ed thought that was a nice way of phrasing his blatant disrespect. "You've made clear that no matter how high ranking, or how powerful, it doesn't stop you from doing what's right and given what we know of what Bradley authorised..." he trailed off. Ed grimaced. "And, of course, I am limited in my options because for all I want to fix this, we cannot let the public know what went on under their noses. You, however..."

"I already know the ugly," Ed said.

"Yes."

Ed thought about it, about what he'd find there, about what he'd seen. If no one was keeping an eye on it, who was to say there weren't other Shou Tuckers? But then he thought of Al, and Winry. What would they think? And hadn't he promised to give finding other jobs a try, instead of just returning to the military?

"I'll leave you to think on it," Grumman said. "There is no time limit - in truth, if you did decide to accept, I would insist on your recovery before starting. After all -"

"Chief!"

They all jumped when the door burst open with a bang and Ed doubled over at the spark of pain that followed. Havoc strode in, froze on seeing the Fuhrer and then saluted, face paling. "Sir! I apologise, I didn't know you were in here.

"At ease Lieutenant," Grumman said with a frown. "What's the matter?"

"Ah..." Havoc turned to Ed with a grim face. "Wilkins has escaped. The brigadier sent me to guard you in case he comes here."

"Escaped?!" Ed and Granny exclaimed.

"How?" Grumman demanded.

"Sir! The brigadier suspects he had help," Havoc said.

"Lieutenant Rogers," Grumman turned to his own entourage. "You will remain here with Lieutenant Havoc and assist in guarding Major Elric." Rogers saluted, while Grumman turned back to Havoc. "Where is the brigadier now?"

"In the cells," Havoc replied.

"Wait!" Everyone turned to look at Ed, who had clenched his jaw because only one thing had been going through his mind. "Al's out there, with Winry."

Havoc frowned. "It's you he's after -"

"-but he would surely know you're protected," Grumman realised, casting a speculative look at Ed. "Perhaps an easier way of getting his revenge would be -"

"Going after Alphonse," Granny finished, going paler herself.

"Right, I'll just -" Havoc saluted to the Fuhrer again. "I'll make a phone call and return, sir."

"Go," Grumman nodded and Havoc fled. "I will personally investigate this," he said, turning back to Ed and Granny. "Rogers will remain. Do not let anyone in or out the room, unless they are one of my team, Mustang's or Ed's brother and friend themselves." This was directed to his Lieutenant, who nodded, and then with a final reassuring look Grumman left.

"Shit," Ed breathed and gripped the bed sheets until his knuckles turned white.

_Please be okay, Al._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, Grumman is so nice... hmm why is he so nice... if you have any ideas, let me know, 'cause I sure don't, nope, nu uh, no way.
> 
> So like woahhhh there's TWO possibilities for Ed now (though he only knows one, whoopsie) and it's still all about Al, oh my days, which route would you guys prefer he went + why? Or something else entirely? Full disclosure, it probably won't change the story, but I'm curious.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who has commented, left kudos, bookmarked and subscribed. I wouldn't be anywhere without you guys. <3

The sun felt as warm as it had looked through the infirmary windows.

Alphonse shut his eyes and tipped his head back to soak in more rays. After spending the past few days indoors, sitting in a park with a gentle breeze was a balm to his frazzled nerves.

"There you are!" he felt the bench shift slightly and opened his eyes to see Winry settling next to him. "I think you're looking more relaxed already."

"Yeah. Granny was right," he admitted as he sat upright and turned to face her. "I do feel a lot better just being outside."

"Are you surprised?" she smiled.

"Not really," Al smiled back and then gazed out over the park. "She always seems to know what to do or say."  _Unlike me_ , he wanted to add, as a couple of children playing on the roundabout caught his eye. He watched them push it as fast as they could before jumping on and his smile widened at their obvious delight. "Sometimes I wish..." the words were out before he could think.

"Hmm?"

He turned back to her as he remembered why Granny had told him to go out in the first place and lost his nerve. "... Never mind. What did you find?"

The look she shot him said she was only letting it go for now, and then she put her bag in-between them and opened it. There was a plush teddy bear, a bag of marbles and ribbons in every colour of the rainbow which, when he frowned in confusion, she explained could be used for bracelets or hair ties. Next to them was a bakery box with some elaborately designed cakes inside.

"What do you think?" she bit her lip. "Will it be enough?"

"I think they'd be happy even if you turned up with nothing," he said and patted her hands. "But it all looks great to me. Are we going now then?"

Winry nodded. "If we don't, I might lose my nerve. I don't even know if we'll be welcome!"

"I wonder if Elicia will even remember us..." Al felt his stomach twist nervously.

It had been a long time since they'd seen Mrs Hughes and Elicia, once in the hospital after the Promised Day and before that, not since the mess with the homunculi took off. Al knew part of the reason, for him and Ed anyway, was because they were too ashamed to show their faces. It was their fault Hughes was killed; they’d been so determined to get their own bodies back, they hadn’t taken any caution when going after the forbidden knowledge, and that made it hard to look Mrs Hughes and Elicia in the eyes. But for Winry, she just hadn’t had the chance to come back before now. That was probably why she'd been the one to suggest it.

Al just hadn't said no because his desire to see them again was stronger than his shame.

"There's only one way to find out," Winry said and stood up. "Do you remember the way?"

By the time they managed to remember the way to Mrs Hughes’ apartment complex, it was late afternoon and they dithered in front of her door for several minutes before summoning the courage to knock.

“Yes?” Mrs Hughes said as she opened the door, only to freeze as she saw them. After a moment, her gaze settled on Al and a hand came up to cover her mouth as she said, “ _Alphonse_?”

“Hi Mrs Hughes,” he let out a shaky breath as he waved awkwardly. She didn’t say a word, just stepped forward and gave him possibly the gentlest hug he'd ever had (and after getting his body back, he'd received a _lot_ ). He tensed, then breathed in her perfume and gasped as, just for a split second, he was a child again in his mother’s arms. When he came back, his eyes were stinging and he realised he was clinging tightly back to Mrs Hughes. He blinked several times to get rid of the tears and forced his fingers to loosen their grip.

“It’s good to finally see you,” Mrs Hughes said as she pulled back, though her hands remained on Al’s shoulders. “You look so much healthier too!"

"Thanks," he let out a tiny laugh, as he always did when he was reminded of how far he'd come since then. "I'm sorry we didn't say goodbye."

"Oh hush, that's hardly something to get worked up over. Now, not giving us a phone call every now and then, that's a different story." Al and Winry exchanged a guilty look and Gracia smiled, shook her head and squeezed Al's shoulders before letting go. "Well, you can make it up to me now by coming inside. It would be lovely to catch up, and you can update me on Edward’s condition, too. I’ve heard some from Roy, but…”

"Is Elicia here?" Winry asked as they followed Mrs Hughes inside and left their shoes by the door.

"I'm afraid not," Mrs Hughes sighed. "She'll be devastated she missed you both. Unless you're willing to stay for awhile? She'll be back in a few hours," she added as she glanced at the clock.

"Where is she?" Al asked.

"At a friend's birthday party," she replied and then gestured to the sofa. "Please, sit."

"We can stay, right Al?" Winry glanced at him as she sat down.

"Yeah, we don't have anywhere else to be," he agreed, not in any hurry to go back and speak to Ed, and glanced around the room to see what had changed. Things had moved around slightly, but otherwise it was as he remembered. His gaze settled on the mantlepiece, where a photo of Hughes, his wife and Elicia looking happy together was placed front and centre, and his throat tightened. He moved on to the other photos before he could dwell and saw several new photos - more recent - of Elicia.

"Um, Mrs Hughes, we actually brought you some things," Winry broke the silence as Al settled next to her on the sofa and pulled out the items from her bag, putting them on the table.

"How thoughtful!" Mrs Hughes smiled. "But please, call me Gracia. Oh! Are those cakes from Red Velvet?" she brightened. "Tea will go very well with those. Why don't you sit while I make us some?" Later, when they were all sitting with their own drinks, she said, "Elicia will love those ribbons. She has a different hairstyle for each day of the week now."

"Really?" Winry laughed. "I don't think I ever did something like that."

"We weren't exactly normal though," Al pointed out.

"I guess so. It's why - well, I wasn't too sure about any of these," she admitted to Gracia and picked up the plush teddy bear. "I just thought about what I would've liked at that age."

Al stared at her. "When did you ever play with teddy bears?" he wondered.

"O-oh, you know..." Winry's cheeks reddened as she waved a hand dismissively. Al narrowed his eyes. He may have been one year younger than her and Ed, but it was a difference that made no difference in the end. They'd spent all their time together and, despite wracking his brain quite hard, he couldn't ever remember seeing Winry play with teddy bears. Spanners, wrenches and gears, yes. Teddy bears?

"Oh!" it hit him in a flash and he snorted. "You mean those teddy bears whose arms or legs you ripped off and then practised sewing back on?"

"I -"

"Or do you mean the ones you stole from the other kids and -"

"Like you can talk, Mr If-It-Wasn't-Alchemy-It-Didn't-Exist -"

Gracia laughed and they both fell silent immediately, unable to meet each other's eyes in embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry," Winry apologised, her whole face red.

"Don't be," Gracia's voice was so warm, something tense deep inside Al's chest eased. "It's wonderful to see you arguing over something silly." She must have seen Al and Winry exchange a confused look because she elaborated, "It's always been so serious whenever you've come before, no matter how much my husband tried to get you to act your age. If only he were here to see you now..." she trailed off and they all fell silent. "Speaking of serious, I just have to ask. How is Edward doing? Truly?"

Al swallowed and looked down at his mug. "He's awake."

"We didn't think he would wake up at first," Winry took over and, for a moment, pressed her leg against Al's in reassurance. "He's resting a lot now, but he'll be okay eventually. Well," she added on, her tone darkening, "he's going to have to take it easy. There was a lot of damage inside..."

"I'm sure," Gracia said, her tone pained, and Al jerked hard enough to spill his tea when he remembered Hughes had died from a shot to the chest. She probably knew more details than most would.

"I'm really sorry -" he started.

She shook her head. "It's alright, I've come to terms with it. I'm just pleased Ed made it," her smile was small but genuine. "Do you think he'd be up for visitors? Elicia's been asking ever since she heard the news."

"They're actually going to move Ed to Central Hospital at the end of the week," Winry said, making Al frown. He hadn't known that; had he just not been listening?

"That's only three days away," Gracia blinked. "Is there any reason it's so soon?"

Winry scowled and her knuckles turned white where they gripped her mug. "We think - Granny and I, that is - it's because the military wants to get rid of all this attention, because a lot of it's really bad for the Fuhrer right now," she said. "And the best way to get rid of the attention is to get rid of Ed. You know, we had to sneak out the back entrance in disguise to avoid the reporters."

"That was fun, though, like going on a secret mission," Al said.

"But you shouldn't have had to do that," she argued. "And the military's - the Fuhrer's stupid if he thinks moving Ed will make things better for him -"

"But it would be better for Ed, wouldn't it?" Gracia interrupted. "I imagine the military infirmary isn't the best place to recover long-term."

"Well, no..." Winry conceded and huffed. "But it - it just shouldn't have happened in the first place!"

Gracia placed her mug on the coffee table and moved to settle on the arm of their sofa. "No, it shouldn't," she said quietly as she gently prised Winry's mug free and put it next to her own. "I heard a little about the situation from Roy, and I just can't... it must be so difficult, for both of you."

What warmth he'd absorbed since coming to her house seemed to evaporate.

"It's fine," he said, though he knew the flatness of his tone wasn't convincing in the slightest.

"Did... did he tell you what the reason for it all was?" Winry asked, very quietly.

"... He did," she said and then, after looking at them both, added, "I don't believe it in the slightest. There must be another, rational explanation." She sounded so confident Al could only stare at her in wonder. First Hawkeye, now Gracia - he hunched his shoulders, curled in on himself and around his mug, and wondered how so many people could be certain when Al himself was wavering.

The small resentment he'd built up was why he muttered, "There's definitely _some_ explanation we're not getting."

Winry sighed and moved away from him again to express her displeasure, while Gracia glanced worriedly between them and asked,

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Al said because there was no chance she'd understand if she was so sure Ed hadn't done it. Winry, in her annoyance, seemed to have none of the same qualms about sharing.

"Al thinks Ed's hiding something about the murder," she said.

"Winry!" he glared at her and then, when he saw Gracia's wide eyes, felt obliged to say, "It's not like that! I don't think he did it, brother wouldn't ever kill anyone, but -" he paused, hesitant to go on, but there was no judgement in her gaze, just encouragement. The rest of it came tumbling out. "- but something happened and he's refusing to tell me what and it's - it makes me so mad because I knew he was hiding something, he'd always act weirdly when we talked about the time we were apart, but I didn't think..."

"When you were apart?" she prompted when he didn't continue.

Al huffed, "We were - after we went to Briggs, we got separated for half a year," and he couldn't help glancing at Winry, though soon he was faced with the blank spot in his memory from Pride, and shook his head to try and cast off that shadow. "He was missing all that time, and I didn't - we didn't know till after, but he's got this new scar and he won't say anything about it _or_ the months he was missing..."

Gracia studied him for a moment and then said, "You're hurt he doesn't trust you."

"I -" Al tensed, then nodded when he realised it was true, that it had been the true feeling driving his thoughts.

"Oh _Al_ ," Winry whispered. "Of course he trusts you -"

"If he did, he'd tell me!" Al interrupted and clenched his hands into fists. "What could be so bad he can't tell me, after everything we've been through? Maybe something like mur -"

"Don't you dare!" Winry leapt to her feet and Al stopped, taken aback. "Just because I don't have a wrench doesn't mean I won't hurt you!"

"But -"

"But nothing!" she threw a fist at his face, but stopped just centimetres from his nose. "Don't you realise how much it hurts when you say things like that?" Al followed the arm up to her face and spotted the tears in the corners of her eyes. "Of all people, how can you not get this?"

"Winry..." he whispered. She turned her back on him.

"I need some air," she stormed out the room and the front door slammed a few seconds later. Al stared at the way she'd gone, alternating between guilt and annoyance, and after what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds, he felt the sofa dip where Gracia sat next to him. She didn't say anything, just sat there patiently, and eventually he worked up enough courage to look at her. 

She didn't look angry, only concerned.

"Why doesn't she feel the same?" he asked. "Brother's keeping a secret from her too!"

Gracia hummed and tilted her head to the side. "What exactly are you angry about? Your brother keeping a secret from you, or being involved in murder?" He swallowed, realising he didn't know, and he leant forward, rest his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. Her hand settled on his shoulder, light and warm, and he used her strength to try and make sense of his thoughts. "From where I'm sitting," she continued slowly, "It seems like you've taken two separate things and merged them together."

"What do you mean?" he asked, muffled through his palms, but she seemed to understand.

"You said, before, that you were certain Ed didn't do it. Were you lying?"

He snapped his head up. "No!"

"Do you believe Ed is the kind of person who would cover up a murder, if he saw it happen?" she pressed. Al stared at her, then his whole body drooped as he thought about everything he knew of his brother, and said softly,

"No."

She squeezed his shoulder. "Then why were you so willing to believe the worst of Ed?"

"I wasn't doing that," Al denied.

"You believed a stranger over your own brother," she said and, though her tone was gentle, it hit him as if Winry had continued her punch. Was that why Granny's lips had turned white when he'd told her about their conversation? Was that why Winry had stormed out? This whole time, he'd been feeling betrayed - had he really been the one betraying Ed? "Why do you think that is?"

"I..." he took a deep breath, exhaled and admitted, "I didn't realise, I just... when I heard that private's story, it just... rang true, somehow. But, you're right." He met her eyes again and tried to smile, but instead his vision started to blur as the anger, the resentment, he'd been using as a shield drained away and all that was left was the shock and horror of that moment, the crack of the gun and his brother's bright red blood on the floor. "But if he didn't... he's not safe anywhere. If he didn't do it... it means none of us are safe, no matter what we're doing or -" he cut himself off when he felt Gracia envelop him in a hug.

"Why aren't you safe?" she asked.

"Its... brother's upset a lot of people, but he wasn't - that day, the past few months, he hasn't _done_ that. We were all... we've been so happy, for so long, and it was so peaceful..." his voice cracked and he buried his face in her neck to hide his embarrassment. "We came here, and we were only... seeing friends, and we were sorting out the future, and then suddenly -"

Suddenly his brother was on the floor bleeding out.

"There must have been a reason for it, there had to be," he sobbed and clutched at her shirt, finally letting out his terror and grief, the knowledge that their lives were supposed to be better once they had their bodies back, but now Ed was crippled in another way.

"Shh, shh, it's going to be okay," she whispered, over and over as she rocked him, and Al lost track of how long he spent in her arms.

Eventually, when all his tears were spent, he pulled away and wiped his nose on his sleeve, blinked away the tears to focus on Gracia's shirt and felt his cheeks burn at the wet stains.

"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely.

"Don't be," Gracia said as she fetched some tissues and, a little sadly, she added, "Elicia's given me much worse."

Al tidied himself up a little, as Gracia disappeared to do the same, and resolutely didn't dwell on why Elicia would have done so. He finally felt a bit more human again - in fact, he felt lighter, as if he'd got rid of some weight, though he hadn't realised there was anything to get rid of. He resisted the urge to rub his now itchy eyes and was about to get up and find Winry, when he heard a loud squeal from just outside the front door and then he heard Winry's excited voice.

"Is that -?" he asked Gracia as she appeared in the doorway.

"Yes," she replied with a smile. "Shall we go say hello to your little sister?"

In retrospect, spending a few hours playing with a five year old was a fantastic way to forget about your worries and pass the time, and when the clock struck half nine and Elicia started to yawn every few minutes, Gracia sent her off to brush her teeth and get ready for bed, before turning to Al and Winry.

"Where are you staying tonight?" she asked. Winry and Al glanced at each other.

"We have rooms at a hotel, but..." Winry started.

"... We've been staying with Ed the past few nights," Al finished. However, now Granny was there, it was unlikely all of them could stay in the infirmary overnight.

Gracia made a thoughtful noise. "Then, would you like to stay here? We have a spare room, and a sofa. Or you can both have the spare room, if you don't mind sharing. I'm sure Elicia would love for you to read her a bedtime story." Winry looked tempted, but she didn't immediately say yes. Al thought he knew why.

"Our grandmother's here," he explained, "So it wouldn't be just us."

"Your grandmother?" Gracia brightened. "I'd love to meet her. In that case, we have spare blankets and pillows, or Elicia could sleep with me tonight and one of you could take her bed."

"Are you sure?" Winry bit her lip. "What about Elicia? We don't want to impose -"

"Darling," Gracia called instead of answering. "Would you like your big brother and sister to stay tonight?" There was a patter of feet and then Elicia appeared in the doorway. Her hair was a tangled mess, her toothbrush hung out her mouth and toothpaste dribbled down her chin, but her eyes were wide as she nodded frantically. Gracia's smile widened even as she knelt in front of her. "Their grandmother would be staying as well. Would you like that?" Elicia frowned, clearly thinking about it, and then garbled something, and Gracia laughed. "Take the brush out, dear."

Elicia did so. "Will she be my grandmother too?" she asked, peering over her mum's shoulder to look at Al and Winry.

"You'd have to ask her," Gracia answered as she wiped Elicia's chin clean. "Being a grandmother is a very important job. You can't rush it."

"My teacher at school said grannies always bring presents," Elicia replied because this was a very important job, too. "She can stay if she brings a present."

"Your big brother and sister already brought you presents," Gracia reminded.

"But they're not presents from a granny."

"Well, no." Al couldn't stop grinning as he imagined Granny's reaction to Elicia. "Why don't you finish getting ready for bed, and we'll see?" Gracia urged and, once Elicia was gone, turned back to Al and Winry. "What do you think?"

"If you really don't mind," Winry said shyly and glanced at Al to see if he agreed.

"It would be nice to stay," he agreed. The idea of reading a bedtime story to Elicia warmed him all the way to the core. "But we'd have to go and get Granny first. She doesn't know how to get here." Going back would also give him a chance to apologise to his brother as well. From now on, all of his anger would be towards the private who'd thought it a good idea to hurt his brother, and getting justice for Ed.

"Oh..."

They both turned to Gracia who glanced out the window, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"Mrs-Gracia?" he asked, concerned.

"It's just - it's rather late, isn't it?" she said. "Why don't you stay here, and I'll give Roy a call. Your grandmother is at the command centre infirmary, right?" she waited for their nods before continuing. "He can send her out with someone. It'll be easiest for everyone." Al glanced at Winry, deciding it was her call ultimately, and Winry looked puzzled even as she nodded her agreement. Gracia relaxed and headed into the hallway to use the phone.

"What was that about?" Winry whispered to Al.

Al wasn't sure, but he had a suspicion. "Maybe... I mean, it was dark when Hughes..." he knew he didn't have to explain anymore when Winry paled.

"I see," she said sadly.

Their lack of conversation was the main reason Gracia's voice echoed into the living room a few seconds later.

"Well, you're working late!" she paused for a reply. "It's fine. I was just hoping for a word with Roy, if it's not too much trouble?" Another pause. "Maybe I should ask you if everything's alright." Her tone was lightly teasing, but there was an undercurrent of worry that made Al and Winry creep closer to the door. "You have? But why?" she paused again and then said, "Kain..." before falling silent and then gasping, "No! How?"

"Do you think something happened?" Al wondered, and prayed it had nothing to do with Ed.

Eventually, Gracia continued. "Well, I can help you with one. Alphonse and Winry are at my place and will be staying here tonight." Winry frowned at Al. Why would Fuery want to know where they were? "Yes, of course."

The click after that said she'd hung up but, when she didn't return to the living room, Al and Winry peered around the door.

"M-Gracia?" Winry asked. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh!" Gracia turned, opened and shut her mouth a few times, before eventually saying, "They're busy at the moment, but they'll call back in a few."

"Why did they want to know where we were?" Al asked. "Did something happen to brother?"

"Well..." she hesitated and then the phone rang, interrupting her. She answered it with a, "Hello?" and then blinked. "Roy! What's happening?" she paused, then nodded. "Yes, he is." Her eyes flickered to Alphonse as she listened to whatever Mustang was saying, and then she asked, "But why would he do that?" There was a longer pause and then she huffed, "How could you let that happen?"

Al dug his nails into his palms. _Please don't be talking about Ed, please don't be talking about Ed..._

"But Ed's safe?" Gracia clarified. Al swallowed back a scream of frustration, and Winry slipped her hand in his and squeezed. It helped a little. "Okay. Good." Gracia gave them a reassuring smile but, without any other information, it didn't help much. "I was actually ringing to ask about their grandmother. Is it possible she could join us tonight, or do you think it's too -" she broke off. Al wondered if she was going to say 'dangerous'. "I see, okay. Yes, I'll tell them. Good luck, Roy." And then she hung up.

"Why does Mustang need good luck?" Al asked as he tightened his grip on Winry, a little fearful what her reply would be.

"Before I explain, Edward and your grandmother are both fine," Gracia said firmly and, though he was still worried, it did help him relax a little. "However, Roy believes it's better for your grandmother to stay with Ed tonight."

"Really?" Winry said doubtfully. "Those beds are hard, and she's not going to sleep well on them at all."

"Mummy, I'm done!" Elicia's voice rang through the flat.

"Did you remember to wash behind your ears?" Gracia replied. There was a silence and then they heard Elicia run back to the bathroom. Gracia turned back to them with a sigh and said, "Let me see to Elicia briefly, then I'll come explain."

Reluctantly, they went back to the living room and, with nothing else to do while they waited, Winry made them all a cup of tea. They sat in silence, their stomachs churning as their imaginations ran wild over what news Gracia had to give them. It certainly couldn't be good. She eventually came back looking tired, but the lines on her face eased when she spotted the tea waiting for her.

"Thank you," she said. "Elicia's waiting, though I doubt she'll mind which of you goes in to read to her after this. I'll start at the beginning, shall I?"

"Please," Al said.

"It seems a few hours ago, the person who shot Ed escaped..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, not gonna lie, the idea of Ed, Al, Winry and Granny merging with Gracia and Elicia is one of the most amazing things ever, IMO. I love the idea of Gracia being a mum to Al (she'd be one to Ed too, but I've always imagined Izumi being more like that than Gracia, because Izumi is harsh which Ed needs, and Gracia is soft which Al needs). 
> 
> This chapter was all about getting Al's head back on straight, so we can leap into the action of the next chapter. We're gonna wrap up the private's storyline for good - one way or another...
> 
> (spoilers: it ain't gonna be pretty)


End file.
